


Ephemeral

by troyebixenman



Category: Blue - Troye Sivan (Song), Tracob - Fandom
Genre: AU, Abuse, Alternate Universe, Arranged Marriage, Forced Marriage, Harm, Love, M/M, Multi, Punishments, Torture, master!jacob, poor!troye, rich!jacob, slavetroye, soft!troye, vulnerable
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-14
Updated: 2018-04-14
Packaged: 2019-04-22 21:54:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 19,641
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14317956
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/troyebixenman/pseuds/troyebixenman
Summary: ephemeral/ɪˈfɛm(ə)r(ə)l,ɪˈfiːm(ə)r(ə)l/adjective1. lasting for a very short time."fashions are ephemeral: new ones regularly drive out the old"Jacob was tired of listening, he just wanted to hear. Except he didn't know what he wanted to hear. When he heard the soft keys of the piano from the music room of Valencia Resort, he didn't want it to last.With a few stumbling feet and more stumbling words, Jacob finds himself stuck in between the things that ephemeral and the things that aren't.From the alter, to the wedding bed, to being watched by citizens doing the act he could never even think of doing.Jacob couldn't exactly understand how he got there.A story about the distance between two hearts and the one hundred and fifty seven steps a boy will take to close itorThe one where Jacob's parents are homophobic and takes him to a business trip to the Valencia's Resort, in attempt to pair him up with the Valencia's daughter, though he's too busy mesmerized by a certain curly-haired slave who he noticed is being mistreated.A. E. Quinn, 2017 © All Rights ReservedA. N. Karyn, 2017 © All Rights Reserved





	1. Chapter 1

‘I’m only going to say this once. So, if I were you, I’d pay close attention.’

Jacob circled his fingers around the rim of the glass as his father spoke lowly into his ear, watching outside the aeroplane window where the California skyscrapers bled into each other.

‘You _will_ study at Stanford. You _will_ find a wife. You _will not_ embarrass the Bixenman name with these childish tantrums.’

He gritted his teeth. Gerald Bixenman was a man of vast wealth and little compassion. Jacob experienced this first-hand.

He’d built a business empire at the age of just twenty-five – a fact he liked to remind his wife and son about constantly.

Luxury was second nature to Gerald and Carrie Bixenman, but not to Jacob.

It sickened him to see the way his father had built an empire at the expense of the lower class. It sickened him to watch his mother stay silent.

But most of all, he was sickened by himself, for not having the courage to say anything.

‘You are the heir to this business – _believe me, I wish you weren’t_ – but you are. _Everything here_ – will be yours. Do you understand?’

Jacob nodded weakly. ‘Yes, sir.’

‘Good,’ Gerald hummed, seeming pleased with his answer. ‘It’s about time you start acting like a man. I’m not going to be around forever. And when I go – I need to know you’ve got this.’

‘Don’t be so morbid, honey.’ Carrie spoke from behind her Vogue magazine as she sipped her strawberry mojito.

‘Sorry, dear, but Jacob needs to hear the truth.’

Jacob watched the riverbed of clouds outside with a naïve heart. He wondered if there was anywhere his surname meant nothing.

Anywhere he wouldn’t be judged for being himself, for things he couldn’t change, for the people he cared about.

‘Can I trust that you won’t disappoint me?’

Jacob’s stomach churned at his father’s serious tone. He was so used to being the outcast in the family. The idea of Gerald trusting him with something, with _anything_ , excited Jacob.

It made him feel special.

He wasn’t sure if he’d ever felt that way before.

‘Of course, sir,’ Jacob responded, not sure why his chest was pounding so hard. ‘I won’t let you down. I promise – I’ll make you proud.’

Carrie smiled across at him.

‘That’s my boy.’ Gerald grinned, throwing back the rest of his scotch.

Jacob smiled uneasily as his chest tightened.

He felt cheap, like he’d made promises he couldn’t possibly keep. 

And he was beginning to understand why.

‘Gerald, honey,’ Carrie interrupted. ‘Have you heard from Belle?’

Jacob let out a sharp breath at the mention of the woman. Arabella Valencia was the coldest person Jacob had ever met – and he had been four at the time.

She embodied the worst characteristics of a human – she was self-centred, narcissistic and arrogant.

And almost as superficial as Gerald.

So, naturally, his parents loved her.

‘I spoke with her before we boarded,’ Gerald recalled. ‘I think this visit could be the answer to our problems, Carrie.’

His eyes narrowed on Jacob. ‘So, no one better ruin it. I want you on your best behaviour.’

‘Yes, sir.’ Jacob said half-heartedly, turning away from his parents.

‘Jacob,’ Carrie scolded. ‘It’s not polite to turn away when someone is speaking to you. Especially your parents. It’s very important you don’t embarrass your father on this retreat – remember, we’re here _on business._ ’

‘I’m sure he will behave, dear,’ Gerald said, before turning towards Jacob. ‘You’ll be pleased to know that Isabella is joining us.’

‘You two used to date, didn’t you?’

‘In kindergarten.’ Jacob said. ‘I don’t think she’ll be very happy to see me, anyway. We haven’t spoken since last year.’

‘Trouble in paradise?’

‘Not—

‘I’m sure you two will rekindle faster than you expect,’ Carrie grinned. ‘Love works that way.’

 _Love?_ Jacob felt his stomach twist at her words.  He’d never thought about Isabella that way.

He didn’t know if he could.

‘Lucky man,’ Gerald laughed, shoving his son playfully. ‘She’s quite beautiful.’

Carrie shifted in her seat uneasily and downed her drink.

Laurelle, their most trusted employee, offered her a smile of reassurance.

Carrie turned away.

Jacob watched the exchange with hesitation.

Laurelle had been a mother figure to him for as long as he could remember. At times, she’d shown him more affection than his own mother.

‘So, have you applied for Stanford yet?’ Gerald pressed, his eyes set on Jacob.

‘I was working on the application last week, but something came up, _as you might recall._ ’

Jacob’s face was strangely stoic as he spoke, as if had no idea about the event that had recently occurred.

Gerald let out a frustrated sigh. 

‘And to think a few minutes ago, we were finally getting along,’ Gerald glanced up, his eyes now cold. ‘You _just love_ sabotaging this family, don’t you?’

Carrie blinked away tears as she remembered the night he was referring to. The red that had been everywhere.

She didn’t think she could forget.

‘I think I need another drink.’

‘Of course, ma’am. Let me get you another.’ Laurelle said, leaving her seat to give the family some time alone.

She gave Jacob a sad smile as she left the compartment.

‘You know, I think I’ll go with her.’ Jacob broke the silence, climbing over his father before anyone could stop him.

Jacob heard his parents’ conversation getting quieter as he bolted for the exit.

His chest was pounding again.

—

‘Jake.’ Laurelle said, noticing the blue tint dusted across Jacob’s face. ‘Baby, your face is very pale.’

‘Yeah, I’m…. feeling a little airsick. Don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine.’

‘I… noticed you brought _that_ up,’ Laurelle started nervously, not sure how to approach the subject. She handed him a glass. ‘Almond milk?’

Jacob’s eyes lit up. ‘You brought it? _Thanks, ma._ ’

‘Well, I knew you’d need some along the way.’

Laurelle watched in nostalgia as Jacob brought the glass to his lips. She was reminded of the little boy who was obsessed with almond milk.

He was older now, but some things never change.

‘You know me more than I know me,’ Jacob laughed, feeling the weight on his chest become slightly lighter. ‘But yeah. I— I brought it up. I shouldn’t have, I know.’

‘Well, you must’ve had a reason for bringing it up,’ she spoke softly, eyes full of love as if Jacob were her own son. ‘You wanna talk about it?’

Jacob stayed silent at her words, looking down at the half empty cup of almond milk in his hands. Laurelle didn't expect him to reply either, knowing the boy finds a lot of difficulty at talking.

She finished making Carrie’s drink and moved to give the boy some space, when Jacob spoke.

'Maybe… it's selfish— Maybe I _am_ selfish.'

Laurelle paused and took a step back, waiting for the boy to continue.

'Maybe I shouldn't have done what I did, but how can I act like everything is okay when it's not?’ Jacob’s voice trembled. ‘They act like if they pretend it didn’t happen, then it won’t be real. Isn’t that unfair?’

Noticing the boy's tense figure, she placed the tray on the counter and stood by him. Jacob's gaze was still stuck on the cup in his hands. She waited for him to gather his words.

'I'm in this plane, going somewhere they want me to, wearing the clothes they want me to wear and they still don't listen,' Jacob chuckles to himself. 'I'm just a fucking— archetype.'

'But when do I get a turn? Why do they get to mould me to whatever the fuck they want me to be? Why am I only allowed to sit back and let them, while I—

His voice got stuck in his throat and his nose flared as he exhaled sharply. Jacob blinked back the tears he didn't realize was surfacing in his eyes. Laurelle leaned down beside him.

'Jacob, look at me,' Laurelle softly whispered, letting him wipe his tears before turning to her. 'I know, it's unfair. Trust me, baby, when I say I know what it feels like to be treated unfairly. I think they don't know h—

'No!' Jacob yelled out. 'They don't get to decide that. They don't get to be excused. Why? Because their feelings are valid and mine aren't?'

Laurelle stayed silent. She'd never seen the boy in this state before, and she didn't want to overstep her boundaries.

'Why is that? That they get to ignore my feelings, what, because they don't know how to deal what happened? I stand in front of the mirror _every fucking day_ and I don't know who I'm looking at but that's okay because I'm just a kid?' Jacob yelled, breath erratic.

'And I'm screaming and screaming and I'm _screaming_ , and I used to keep going. Why?' Jacob chuckled to himself once again, 'Because I used to think they didn't hear, but— now I know. They did hear. They heard me screaming and shouting but they just never listened.'

'And what? Am I supposed to care now? About how _they_ feel? About how _they're_ not dealing with what happened? About how _they're_ not dealing with _me_.' Jacob took a breath, looking up to meet Laurelle's eyes. 'Am I supposed to listen? Cause I don't think it's fair. Not when they haven't.'

Laurelle was going to reply when a loud voice vibrated across the relatively small plane.

'Laurelle!' Carrie's voice broke through. 'Are you done with our drinks?'

'Yes ma'am, I apologize, I will get them to you now.' Carrie politely answered, looking at Jacob one last time before lifting the tray off the counter. 'Your mother calls. I promise I'm listening sweetie, I'll be right back and we can talk about this more, okay baby?'

Jacob only nodded.

_Except he wasn't there when Laurelle came back._

—

Jacob’s hands caught the edge of the sink as he fought to steady himself. He ground his teeth together as the fabric of his sleeves rode up, red staring back at him.

He felt _pathetic_.

Chest tight, tears pricked at his eyes. He did not want to feel this way, but he was afraid he’d never feel anything else. He guessed it was better than feeling nothing at all.

 _Useless._ Wasn’t that what his father had raised him to believe he was? Worthless. Immature. Expendable.

Jacob wanted to be the perfect son—he truly did. He wished he could just exchange his heart for another just as cold as his father's, but Jacob did not think it worked that way. But these days he wondered if it was written in him to be a disappointment.

Jacob let out a sharp sob as the ground met his body unapologetically. His vision darkened.

He just needed the pain to leave. He needed it to just rush out his body as fast as his tears could. He needed to stop feeling like this every time his father opened his mouth. Every time he even bothered to spare a glance at him.

He winced as he forced his nails into the soft skin of his palms, blood rushing to the surface of the little punctures.

Jacob was exhausted.

Exhausted at trying to be perfect, exhausted at failing to be the son his father wanted.

He didn’t want to stay here anymore. But he couldn’t bring himself to leave either. Not when he knew he would just be dragged back to this hell again.

‘Jacob, honey,’ a soft knock came. ‘I know you’re not okay, so don't try and convince me you are.  You need to come out sweetie. I think your mother is worried.’

Jacob bit back a bitter scoff as he took in the information. His mother was concerned, but not concerned to be there for him herself.

Maybe he was worthless.

‘M’fine.’ Jacob answered weakly, not trusting himself to say anything more.

He buried his head into his knees, so exhausted.

‘I know you’re not Jake. But I won’t push you—not when you're still in there. Just come out, please? I’m worried too. I'm here Jake, don't push me away.’

He could barely hear Laurelle’s soft voice over the chaos of his heartbeat against his rib cage. Jacob felt his legs shaking beneath his weight as he tried to compose himself.

‘I’ll be out in a minute,’ he said shakily, running a lousy hand through his tousled tufts. ‘Don’t worry. I promise.’

A few minutes passed along nothing but silence.

'Don't let me regret trusting you, Jake.'

As Laurelle’s footsteps became lighter, Jacob let a silent scream escape his lips.

He knew better than this.

Laurelle didn’t deserve his empty promises.

—

' _He's acting childish._ ' Jacob heard his father's voice states.

' _Gerald, he's recovering from—_

' _He is acting childish_.' He sternly repeated, with a scoff. ' _He wants attention. That's why he did—that. That's why he would even bring it up again. It's been a week_.'

' _Exactly. It's only been a week_ ,' Carrie's voice rises, pitch accelerating throughout her words. ' _We need to just give him ti—_

Jacob paused, sliding down to the floor with his back against the door. This is what they think about him, he thinks—this is what they gathered from his situation.

' _No! I refuse to_ ,' the voice paused, gathering its words, ' _let him make us feel like we were to blame. We clearly shouldn't have a blame in this. He chose to do that himself. We didn't hold a gun over his head and made him—_

' _Stop._ ' Carrie interrupted. ' _I am not going to let you bring up what happened so casually_.'

It was not expected. And maybe he should have entered the cabin before he let his father go this far. Maybe if he had gone in instead of listening to what they were saying, it wouldn't have happened— the loud smack he heard. Jacob didn't think he had ever whipped his head around so fast.

' _Which side are you on?_ ' His father's loud voice silenced his mother's words. It was as if his mother's words were so ludicrous to him. ' _I have given you everything you have ever needed. I built this company, not anyone else. You are here because I let you be. You are wearing that ring because I gave it to you. You were nothing before I made you into somebody. You're kidding yourself if you think Jacob won't find out who you were before I met you. And last time I checked, he wasn't the one standing next to you at the altar._ '

' _I-I’m on your side, I just—_

' _You just, what?_ '' Gerald scoffed once again. ' _Don’t fucking argue with me, Carrie. Know your place_.'

And that was when Jacob carefully opened the door before him and prevented eye contact with both his parents. Carrie was sat across his father, yet turned away from him, facing the cloudy sky. A hand was on her cheek and her breaths were uneven. _This is all my fault,_ Jacob thinks.

_All my fault._

All his fault.

And he should have done something.

He should have done something years ago.

–

_Jacob was playing on the swing, watching the big cars zoom past the main road in front of the park. He had realized that the more he pushed his legs against the ground, the higher the swing took him. And he had also noticed that the higher he got on the swings, the more he could see of his town._

_'Jacob, sweetie, please be careful not to hurt yourself.' He heard his mom's voice from the park bench, his dad beside her, 'Your Dad and I will be right here if you need us honey.'_

_Jacob let go of one of the ropes holding the swing up and waved to his dad. Though concerned for his safety, he waved back. His little figure smiled at the sight of his parents and continued to kick his feet up in the air every time the swing went upwards._

_His dad suddenly sat up from his seat and pressed his phone to his ear. Jacob watched in amusement as his mom followed after him, stepping out of the children play area's fence. Jacob did not particularly mind their absence._

_There were other kids too. Some on the slide, pushing each other down. Some on the monkey bars, hanging upside down and some crawling through it. None of them particularly stood out to him. None but the boy who sat on the swing next to him. Clothes torn and face bruised. Jacob knew he was intrigued at this boy as soon as he took a closer look at those cerulean eyes._

—

When Jacob felt a tap on his shoulder, he whipped his head around to see who it was that disturbed his moment of peace. What he did not expect to see was a woman, fully dressed in white with matching coloured wings.

The fuck?

_Maybe he really was dead._

Of course, he was _not_ dying. He was rather thankful when the hand tapped him on the shoulder again and his eyes blinked open rapidly. He whipped around to find Laurelle tapping him on the shoulder, a really concerned expression on her face. His mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water.

'Jacob? Sweetie, are you okay?' Laurelle questioned, eyes wide, seeming genuinely concerned at his odd behaviour. She seemed even more concerned when the boy burst into a fit of giggles, eyes widening further, if that was even possible.

'I—uh, you tapped me,' he chuckled in between his words, 'and you had wings.'

And now Laurelle was definitely worried about the boy's health. She lifted her hand up to his forehead to check his temperature, finding a strangely normal temperature against her skin.

'You're not warm, but clearly, you're hallucinating. Jacob. I think you're not _just airsick_ , baby.' Laurelle dragged out every word.

'I'm not sick Ma,' he snickered. 'It's just one of those _weird thingies_ where something is happening outside of your sleep and there's a parallel in your dreams.'

'Don't you _ever_ scare me like that again Jacob Taylor.' She hit him upside the head. Jacob realized then that they were the last ones in the plane. 'Now c'mon, your mother is waiting for us outside.' 

Jacob only grumbled and followed after her.

Jacob felt sick when he exited the plane. At this point, he had already convinced himself that he was just mildly airsick.  He simply excused himself once they were in the airport and headed to the restroom.  Maybe after he freshened up, he would feel better—at least that's what he thought.

He couldn't help but take a moment to have a thorough glance at himself. Hazel eyes drowned within the sea of red, in comparison to the floating tint of blue on his porcelain skin. He couldn't help but question who exactly he was looking at. The quiff on his head, the leather jacket—it wasn’t him. He knew this.

He attempted to freshen himself up by spraying water over his face. The water did no other than drown him further in whatever tangent he found his mind stuck in. He gazed down at the sink, waiting for whatever was building up in his stomach to be released.

Nothing came out.

He noticed and gazed at his itching wrist but pulled his sleeves over them, quickly fixing his hair before leaving the bathroom. He could not think about that. Not when this is supposed to be some form of vacation to him – though he was perfectly aware his father only took him here due to his business).

'What the fuck took you so long? Bent someone over the stalls?' His father rolled his eyes and grumbled, getting in the unfamiliar SUV Jacob found himself stood in front of, 'Now hurry up.'

Jacob took a step towards the back of the car to load his luggage in the trunk when a middle-aged man in a fairly expensive suit approached him.

'May I put away your luggage, sir?' The man smiled at him, hands motioning towards the luggage.

'It's just Jacob, sir,' the boy smiled politely, 'and it's fine. I can put these away. Thank you for offering.'

'Are you sure, uh—Jacob?'

'I'm sure. Thank you again.' Jacob smiled genuinely.

Jacob watched as the chauffeur entered the driver’s seat and carefully placed his luggage inside along the bunch of other luggage already fitted inside. He left his backpack on his bag when he closed the trunk, making sure it is tightly closed. When he pulled on the handle to make sure it won’t open, he grasped the straps of his backpack and stepped in the rover, sitting beside Laurelle.

Jacob thought the chauffeur may have found it weird— the way they didn't say a word throughout the whole journey. He also thought that the tension was petrifying since mother and father had not said a word to each other. He almost wanted to slice thought it with a sharp knife, but Jacob had never been the one to deal with sharp weapons.

Jacob barely noticed when they arrived.

Maybe he wasn't sure whether he felt some form of familiarity with the place, or whether that was just his subconscious on the look for any sort of familiarity to keep him grounded. Regardless, he found that he didn't have to decide between the two. Whether it was familiar or not—well, that was for him to feel—or unfeel.

It didn't surprise him when the obnoxious loud-pitched screech muffled his ears. Not when he already caught sight of her. Jacob wasn't sure what it was that bothered him so much when he took the first clear look at her. It could have been her ironed black blazer to fit her slim figure, her pencil dress underneath hugging her waist. It may have been the dark brown ponytail whipping around behind her head. Jacob thinks it was more the stitched grin on her face when she noticed him.

'Jacob! It's been a while since we last saw you.' She pulled him into somewhat a hug, 'Your father couldn't keep you away from us for far too long, surely.'

'Hi, uh— Mrs Valencia,' Jacob plastered a fake smile on his face and she must have bought it, 'Father mentioned that he had business here.'

'Nonsense! Call me Belle honey,' She put wrapped her fingers around his upper arm, 'that was just your father's excuse to seeing us again.'

Gerald coughed uncomfortably behind him, interrupting their conversation. Jacob thought it might have been on purpose. His thoughts were confirmed when Belle straightened herself up and finally made eye contact with his father.

'Gerald.'

'Belle.'

 _They definitely know something_ , Jacob thought.

'You know, I thought we made it clear that _you and I_ had business. Jacob is here to have a vacation break before university,' she whipped her head back towards Jacob, 'aren't you honey?'

Jacob was forced to answer.

'I uh—I'm here for whatever reason father asked me to be here.' For the first time in a long while, his father answered his gaze with pride on his face.

At that, Belle only grinned, which sent shivers down Jacob's spine amongst other things. Then she walked around him and took a few more steps until he stopped in front of Gerald and Carrie. Jacob twisted his head around, only watch his father lean forward and place a kiss on Belle's cheek. Gerald then stepped aside to let Belle place a kiss on Carrie's cheeks, with her returning the kisses.

Jacob remained confused at the adult behaviour.

'You.' Belle turned to Laurelle, who was carrying their luggage, 'you may take those upstairs and into the room. It's at the end of the corridor.'

And Jacob may have been very bothered by the harsh way she spoke to Laurelle, who only nodded. Jacob trailed behind her, only to be stopped shortly after.

'Jacob? Where are you going, honey?' She raised her eyebrows at him, leaving him no time to reply, 'Go to the living room. You must be starving.'

The only thing he heard as he headed towards the living room was a few mutters of his name. Jacob decided that they may be talking about what happened the week prior.

Jacob would never know what they said.

Jacob didn’t have to listen closely to know the owner of the voice – he had known Isabella since they were almost four years old. He felt the smile spreading across his lips as he turned to see the younger girl.

Except this wasn’t the Isabella who had left him at the altar in kindergarten. No, this Isabella was only a few months short of eighteen year old, and she definitely looked it. Her jaw was more defined, and her face more mature. Time had been good to her. Though, she was still as short as she had always been. Jacob suppressed a chuckle.

She was so beautiful.

_And so not Jacob’s type._

Isabella came to a stop in front of Jacob, narrowing her eyes at him as if to figure him out. Jacob smiled, a little amused at his friend. He raised an eyebrow at her in response.

‘Pretty boy.’ Isabella shot.

‘Good to see you too.’

‘It’s been long enough.’

‘Isa,’ he spoke softly, his voice laced with confusion. ‘You look… different.’

‘I’m not so little anymore, Jacob. A lot has changed in my life in the past few years,’ she spoke cryptically, a sad smile forming at her lips. ‘You just haven’t been here to see it.’

Jacob felt his stomach knot with guilt. She was right, he hadn’t been very present recently. And they’d both suffered as a result. He’d been spiralling for two long years, and detached himself from the few friends he had, thinking it would protect his friendships. The look on Isabella’s face told him it hadn’t.

‘I…’

‘Don’t, Jacob,’ Isabella said, running a hand through her hair. ‘We can talk about it another time. Once you’re settled.’

‘But—

‘Jacob Bixenman,’ she raised an eyebrow. ‘Don’t you dare. We’re finally together again. I want to make the most of it.’

Jacob threw his hands up in surrender and fought back a smile. ‘What changed?’

‘What?’ she asked blankly.

‘I don’t know. You just seem happier.' Jacob could not help but want to question how she managed to be so happy being surrounded by—this, 'I don’t think I’ve seen you like this in a long time. So… who is it?’ he laughed.

'Who is what?' She giggled.

'We all know there's a certain someone."

She blushed. ‘You’re delusional.’

‘And you’re in denial.’

‘I really hate you. You know that?’

‘Way to avoid the question, Valencia.’

Jacob glanced past Isabella to where his father was watching them closely. His stomach twisted uncomfortably as he made eye contact with the man.

 For the second time that day, he looked almost proud of Jacob.

Jacob thought that it was both refreshing and sickening at the same time. _This is what he wants,_ Jacob reminded himself.

‘Well, I learned from the best.’

‘You have some nerve, you—

Jacob’s chest dropped as the sound of glass shattering behind them. He craned his neck to identify the source of the noise.

_God, no._

He couldn’t have been much younger than the two, but he was definitely much thinner and smaller. The small boy was on his knees, whimpering in fear as he began picking at the little shards of glass— wincing as he pricked his fingers. Jacob felt his heart twist in pain as tears filled the younger boy’s ocean eyes.

‘Troye, honey,’ Isabella rushed past him to the boy’s side, instantly kneeling beside him, ‘Oh my god. Are you hurt? Show me where it—

‘For God’s sake, Isabella,’ Belle snapped as she approached the scene, her heels colliding coldly with the marble floor. ‘Stop naming them. He is not your friend. He’s nothing. How many times do I have to remind you this? Stop acting so stupid.’ 

Jacob watched in sadness as the first of many tears escaped Troye’s eyes, running down his soft cheeks and onto the wounds on his hands. Jacob wanted to cry too.

Isabella met her mother’s eyes with a blank stare, clenching her jaw to contain her anger. She turned to Troye with worry.

‘What’s going on, Belle?’ Gerald asked as he neared the mess of glass, Carrie in tow. ‘Jacob, come away from the glass.’

‘This imbecile just broke a priceless vase,’ Belle spat, before turning her attention back to Troye. ‘You can’t do anything right, can you? Little bastard. Clean this up. Now.’

'Mom, he can't—

" _He_ made a mess," Belle crossed her hands over her chest, "And so _he will_ clean it up."

Jacob balled his hands into fists as he watched Troye cower under her intense stare. It was a mistake. Why couldn’t she see that?

‘Such a pity,’ Gerald sneered. ‘They really have no respect for themselves or the people around them. He deserves to be punished for this, if you ask me.’

No one did, Jacob thought, defiantly.

He could never say it aloud, though.

‘Leave him alone,’ Isabella pleaded with her mother. ‘Please. He didn’t know what he was doing. He’ll clean it up. Please, Mom. I promise you he won’t do anything.’

‘You promise?’ Belle laughed coldly at her daughter. ‘When are you going to accept that these people aren’t like us. We deserve their respect, not the other way around.’

‘He didn’t know.’ Isabella pressed.

Belle narrowed her eyes at her daughter coldly. ‘One more word.’

Isabella opened her mouth as if she was going to protest. But she didn’t.

Jacob felt sick to his stomach. Troye was picking frantically at the glass, the edges piercing his hands and bringing blood. All Jacob could see was red. And he felt sick.

‘S-Sorry. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it,’ Troye cried, bringing a hand up to wipe at his eyes, and cutting his face in the process. He curled into himself. ‘Please… Please don’t.’

‘This is unacceptable,’ Gerald said.

Jacob felt his chest rise in hope. Maybe he hadn’t given his father enough credit. Maybe he was good at heart.

‘He must be punished.’

Jacob thought he’d never felt heartbreak before. But as he watched Troye clutch at his chest in fear, his heart broke.

He didn’t know how to fix this.


	2. Chapter 2

Jacob smiled in appreciation as one of the waiters passed the breakfast table, serving the two families a range of nutritious platters.

Isabella sent a smile his way when the waiter approached them. 'Thank you, Jed.'

Jacob watched as his mother spoke animatedly, capturing the entire table’s attention. Jacob, however, was a world away.

‘That’s a beautiful ring, Mrs. Bixenman,’ Isabella complimented, admiring the way the diamond shimmered as it caught the light at an angle.

‘I should hope so,’ Gerald laughed. ‘It cost me a fortune. _And then some._ ’

‘ _Thank you_ , Isabella,’ Carrie smiled, before sending her husband a warning look. ‘I’m sure your engagement ring will look much more beautiful, when the time comes, of course.’

Jacob pushed the food around his plate as their families made small talk. His body was present, but his mind was still eighteen hours behind, on muted blue eyes and shattered vases.

‘It’s barely nine.’ Belle said, amused, as Gerald began to pour himself a scotch.

‘That’s nine hours too late.’ Gerald replied, bringing laughter around the table.

Jacob tapped his shoes against the marble floor, wondering why he felt so out of place in their company. He’d kept his mouth closed for the majority of the conversation, out of fear of embarrassing his family or offending theirs.

Belle seemed to notice his silence.

‘ _Jacob_ ,’ Belle pressed. ‘Something on your mind?’

His hazel eyes flickered up to meet her unusually humorous, grey ones. She narrowed her eyes at him in a way that made Jacob feel exposed, as if she were trying to pry his greatest secrets out of him. He swallowed uneasily.

Isabella looked at him with pleading eyes.

‘ _Who…_ ’ Jacob started, forcing his eyes shut in regret as the words left his mouth. ‘Who was that boy yesterday? The one who broke the vase?’

He flinched as a fork clattered to the floor, bringing an uncomfortable silence with it. Isabella’s eyes were closed almost painfully, whilst Michael and Carrie looked as if they wanted the floor to open up around them.

Belle simply watched in interest.

‘Jacob,’ Gerald clenched his jaw. ‘That is _none_ of your business. Apologise immediately—

‘It’s fine, Gerald,’ Belle interrupted, her eyes turning from interested to cold as she refocused on Jacob. ‘That _idiot_ is one of the resort’s employees. _I know_ — it’s hard to believe, with his level of stupidity and incompetence. I told him to stay far away yesterday, and _look what he did_.’

'Mother...' Isabella warned.

'Isabella.' Belle threatened, looking into her eyes, sending her dozens of words towards her.

‘People _like that_ are so embarrassing,’ Gerald remarked bitterly. ‘I trust he was punished?’

‘ _I’ll say_ ,’ Belle smirked, seeming pleased with herself. ‘It started with fifteen lashes, and then I left my assistant in charge.  _Sensitive_ one, that boy. He fainted by the first three—

Jacob felt bile at the back of his throat as her description sunk in. He felt _physically_ sick hearing the ways Troye had been hurt. He dug his nails into his thigh, trying to keep his discomfort from showing.

‘ _Arabella_ ,’ Michael cautioned his wife, a pained look on his face. ‘Is this really necessary?’

She glared at him. ‘You’re not _seriously_ taking pity on him, are you? Because that’s not the man I married. _Michael_ , he broke your _mother’s_ vase.’

Michael shrunk back into his seat.

‘ _Only_ fifteen?’ Gerald was outraged. ‘I would have doubled that, at least. These people need to be taught with force.’

‘ _Believe me_ , I would have. But I’m not in the mood to have a lawsuit on my hands,’ Belle returned. ‘You should have heard him _scream_ , Gerald. That’ll teach him not to be such a screw-up.’

'Michael,' Gerald flashed a faux smile. 'Are you not bothered _at all_ that that _slave_ broke your mother's vase?'

Michael did not answer.

Jacob felt tears prick at his eyes as he imagined the scene. He jerked his head to the left side of the table— where Isabella was sitting blankly.

_Why aren’t you standing up for him, Isabella?_

No, that was an unfair thought for him to have.

_Why aren't you standing up for him, Jacob?_

‘So, Jacob, I heard you’re applying for Stanford,’ Michael smiled, unaware that his attempt to change the conversation brought dread to Jacob’s stomach. ‘Congratulations.’

‘You’re damn right, he is,’ Gerald grinned at Jacob. ‘Just like the rest of the Bixenman men.’

‘ _Oh_ ,’ Belle perked up, suddenly interested in the topic of conversation. ‘And just what are you thinking of studying?’

Jacob bit his lip as he turned to find his father’s expectant face. _Say it, Jacob. Just say it._

Isabella gazed at him with dread, expecting otherwise.

‘M—Medicine or business.’ Jacob said.

Gerald’s face relaxed into a proud expression. Carrie watched her son with sympathy.

‘Wise choices,’ Belle smiled. ‘Both will make for a very successful career. Now, you just need to find someone to share it with.’

‘How romantic.’ Michael chuckled.

'I've always _been_ a romantic, honey' Belle laughed as if it was the funniest thing she's ever heard.

'And do I know it.' Michael smiled, in attempt to change the Bixenmans' impression.

Isabella rolled her eyes when her mother gazed lovingly at her husband. 

Jacob brought the orange juice to his lips, cringing at the bitter taste left in his mouth. Almost as bitter as their pathetic excuse of a conversation.

‘I’m not sure what I want to study.’ Isabella said, fidgeting in her seat nervously.

Belle laughed. ‘ _Certainly not business_.’

Isabella’s lips parted in shock. ‘ _What? I thought_ —

‘Let’s face it, honey,’ Belle said, picking up her glass of water. ‘You’re not the _brightest_ —

‘ _Arabella_.’ Michael warned, his face stern.

‘ _Michael._ ’ Belle clipped.

 _'Gerald._ ' Gerald joked, clearing his throat awkwardly when no one laughed. Jacob cringed. ' _Tough crowd..._ I guess I'll just get another drink.'

Belle sighed, turning back to her daughter. ‘I’m _just_ looking out for you, Isabella. I don’t want you to get your hopes up and then be heartbroken when it doesn’t work out for you. And it _won’t_. _That’s life_.'

Jacob reached for Isabella's hand under table, giving her some form of comfort. Belle sent a smirk their way as she caught sight of it.

The table became eerily silent as she spoke. Jacob’s stomach turned in disgust at the way Belle had just destroyed her daughter.

Carrie’s mouth was wide open, struggling to save face and recover from the shock.

Isabella’s shoulders fell as she turned away.

‘Don’t be upset, sweetheart.’ Belle said.

‘ _I’m not._ ’ Isabella snapped, the look on her face contradicting her words.

‘ _Honey,_ Jacob doesn’t mind,’ Belle said, clearly not understanding that she was making the situation worse. ‘He’ll still want to _be with you,_ even if you’re not as smart as him. Tell her you’re not going to leave her, Jacob.’

‘ _God_ , it’s like you’re trying to set us up.’

Isabella’s face fell as she realized.

‘Honey, it wasn’t a secret.’ Belle laughed casually, looking to the three other parents for support. Their faces were tense, almost regretful. 'We've seen the way you look at each other. It's the way your father and I used to look at each other.'

Michael looked taken back.

' _Used to?_   Don't I _still_ look at you like that?'

'That's not what I meant.' Belle remarked.

'That's what you said.'

 _'Besides_ ,' Belle moved on, attempting to hide their dysfunctional relationship from the other family. 'I don't see what the problem is. You two have been in a relationship before.'

' _We were children_ ,' Isabella cried out. 'I couldn't even spell my surname at that age.'

'As I said earlier,' Belle countered. 'You've never been the brightest of girls.'

'I suppose I asked for that one. _Thanks._ '

'Isabella,' Belle admonished, her eyes narrowing in a way Jacob was sure was reserved for her daughter. 'I'm not going to tell you again. Have some manners.'

She shrunk back into her seat. 'Fine. _I apologize.'_

Jacob felt his blood run cold as he too realized what Belle meant— what both of their parents had been subtly referring to even before they’d arrived.

They thought Jacob and Isabella were going to date. _No_. They _knew_ they would. Fear shot through him as his mind ran wild with questions.

They wouldn’t _push_ them together, would they? Jacob knew his father. He would try to talk them into it, but he couldn’t possibly force them. He wasn’t that kind of man.

He still had a little faith in his father.

'I'm still not understanding what the issue here is. Our respective names are two of the most successful in today's business world. Just imagine what we could achieve with our families joined. And I'm sure Jacob would support you with the intellectual side of things.'

‘I don’t believe this,’ Isabella said incredulously, the white-hot anger in her eyes focused on her mother. ‘ _Actually_ , I do. This is _just_ like you. God, why do you have to ruin—

‘ _Isabella Valencia_. I _know_ you’re not going to finish that sentence,’ Belle said, her tone cold and relentless. ‘Now, sit down and we’ll—

‘No,’ Isabella said strongly, her chair grating across the floor almost painfully as she left the table. ‘ _Enough_.’

Jacob didn’t trust his legs, remaining in his seat, eyebrows furrowed and open-ended questions chaotic in his mind.

‘ _So_ …’ Gerald cleared his throat awkwardly. ‘Anyone up for some more scotch?’

 

—

 

‘Would you slow down?’ Jacob called, irritated.

He’d left breakfast a few moments ago, desperate to find out if Troye was okay. He ignored the part of him that told him to drop it.

He breathed heavily as he caught up with the younger girl. ‘ _Jesus_ , Isa. You have _little legs_. How are you walking so fast?’

‘Leave it alone, Bixenman,’ Isabella massaged her temple, her chest falling. ‘I am _not_ in the mood.’

‘ _About what our parents_ —

‘Stop— Just stop,’ Isabella snapped. ‘You don’t get it. You never have. _You left_ , Jacob. You left and I was alone. So, don’t do this. Because you don’t know the first thing about my life. _And apparently, neither do I_.’

Jacob’s eyes softened. ‘ _Isa_ … I’m sorry about what your mother said. She’s wrong, you know. And—

‘Okay, _no_ ,’ Isabella cut him off with a humourless laugh, walking ahead of him at a pace he struggled to keep up with. ‘I’m not about to receive a pep-talk from you of all people. That’s _not_ what’s about to happen.’

‘Well, I _just_ — Okay, _not going to happen_ , I get it,’ Jacob backtracked. ‘Isa... what happened yesterday?’

‘Jacob, you _saw_ what happened yesterday,’ she lowered her voice. ‘And now you’ll know to be prepared for the next time it happens.’

‘There’s a _next time?’_ Jacob asked in disbelief, the knot in his stomach tightening as they approached her bedroom. ‘God, how often does this happen?’

‘ _What kind of question_ — I don’t know,’ Isabella said incredulously. ‘You think I know everything that happens here? Because I don't. I thought you'd have noticed that by now. I'm _just_ as lost as you.'

‘ _Isabella_.’ Jacob pressed.

' _Jacob.'_ Isabelle retorted. 'There's something you need to understand. My mother's resort is _huge._ And as much as I know my way around— I don't know half of the stuff that goes on here.'

'You _must_ know the amount of times he's been hurt, Isa.' Jacob pressed even further.

 _‘Fine,’_ she sighed, running a hand through her dark locks. ‘More times than I can count. More than I even know about. _There_. Are you happy?’

Jacob’s heart twisted in his chest. This happened a lot? He felt sick as he remembered the way Troye had screamed as he was _removed_ from the room, blood dripping from his fingertips.

He remembered the way a man had held him by the throat as he resisted. The way Troye had gone limp after thrashing around in his arms, the life draining almost completely from his face.

He remembered hearing noises during the night, completely abandoned of sleep. He hadn't known whether those were coming from whatever room Troye was being held in, or the dark crevices of his imagination.

He remembered he wanted it to stop.

He remembered wanting it to stop so badly that he held his hands tight against his ears, begging for the screams to stop, pleading for his body to stop flinching every time he heard a particularly loud crack.

He forgot the colour of Troye's eyes.

_He forgot the muted blues._

And for some reason that hurt the most.

He couldn’t hold the tears back for much longer. They were going to escape sooner or later.

Apparently, Isabella knew this too, because eyes faded from defensive to understanding.

‘I just— I don’t understand _why_.’ Jacob wondered aloud, clenching his fists as he thought of the way Belle had relished Troye’s pain.

‘Because she’s Arabella Valencia, that’s _why_ ,’ Isabella spoke, her tone dripping with both resentment and fear. ‘She’s _untouchable._ And Troye's her _favourite_ punching bag.’

Jacob brushed his tears away. _‘Why him?’_

‘Because she can.’

'That doesn't excuse—

'Jacob, _nothing_ she does is excusable.' Isabella choked on her words. 'Nobody dares to correct her. We shouldn't either. I've _learnt_ my place.'

Jacob wondered if he’d ever heard anything so sad. It was devastating, because Belle had _no_ right to treat people like that, to treat _him_ like that. She had no right to abuse somebody and threaten them into silence.

To take away their human rights.

And yet, she was doing just that.

Under the radar, undetected, only spoken about in cruel jokes at the dinner table or hushed whispers around the resort.

She needed to be stopped.

Jacob just didn’t know if it was possible.

You should go,’ Isabella said, her door unlocking with a click. ‘Your parents are probably wondering where you went.’

‘ _No_.’ Jacob said firmly.

‘No?’ Isabella questioned, half-amused.

‘I can’t just leave,’ Jacob fought. ‘I’m _not_ going to just leave. I need to do something— I need to help. This isn’t right, Isa. You know that.’

'Nothing is right.' Isabella stood on her heels. 'Jacob you're so _fucking smart_. But say shit like this I feel like I have the highest IQ. This is how the world works. All we can do is _deal with it.'_

'We can't just—

Jacob seemed to surrender at her glare, waving his white flag in the air.

'I _want_ to help.'

‘Look,’ Isabella looked him in the eye, earnestly. ‘It’s better for all of us if you turn around and forget everything you just heard.’

‘I don’t care,’ he said. ‘I— I can’t do that, Isa. I can’t just stand here and pretend your _mother_ isn’t abusing people. _People,_ Isa.’

‘You are _so_ stubborn, Bixenman,’ she sighed. ‘Why couldn’t you just be like every other self-absorbed, upper-class, pretty boy?’

‘Because I’m not like _them._ You know that,’ he smiled softly. ‘I need to do something. I _want_ to do something.’

‘You really wanna help?’ Isabella questioned, her voice shaking slightly.

‘More than anything.’

Isabella remained hesitant.

'Isa, _please_.'  

Isabella shook her head, almost as if she didn’t believe she was giving in. She opened her door with apprehension.

Jacob felt the contents of his stomach threatening to escape as he took the first few steps inside.

‘Fine. _But I warned you_.’

 

—

 

Tears burned behind his eyes as she tore away the fabric that stood between her hands and his wounds. Troye whimpered in pain as the cool air hit the welts on his back, a reminder that he had let his employer down once again.

Jacob’s stomach writhed at the sight of the boy, teary-eyed and ashamed.

'H- Hurts.' Troye winced.

‘I know, honey.’

‘They wouldn’t stop,’ Troye choked through a sob, his knuckles turning white. ‘I screamed and I screamed and—

Isabella brushed her fingertips softly over his arm as tears ran down Troye's face. She glanced towards Jacob with sadness washing across her features.

 Though, Jacob found she looked more exhausted than upset.  

'Hold his hand?' Isabella pleaded.

'Of course,' Jacob said, settling on his knees near the two. He rested his hand on the mattress, beside Troye's, hesitantly. 

'Troye,' he whispered, watching as the younger boy's face contorted in agony. 'I'm Jacob. Is it okay if I hold your hand?'

Troye nodded softly as a stray tear passed his eyelashes.

 Jacob felt the breath hitch in his throat as he traced his fingertips over the soft skin of his hands, carefully avoiding the lacerations.

'Th— Thanks,' he choked out.

'Tro, honey,' Isabella said. 'I need to put some antiseptic on your back so it doesn't get infected. I'm sorry... but it's going to hurt. Is it okay if I get started?'

'I don't— please don't let it hurt,' Troye whimpered, the pain in his back intensifying. 'Please...'

'Hey,' Jacob said earnestly. 'I'm here. So you squeeze my hand when it hurts. Okay, Troye? I promise I'm not going anywhere.' 

Jacob's heart sank as Troye lifted his hopeful eyes in his direction, tears between his long eyelashes. He bit his lip as he traced soothing shapes over the soft skin of Troye's hands. 

He would stay by Troye's side as long as physically possible.

As long as Troye would have him.

Isabella gave a small nod in his direction as she prepared to clean the welts. He watched as Troye screwed his eyes shut, bracing for the pain. 

Troye arched his back as the antiseptic came into contact with his skin, letting out a scream through his teeth. He felt the pain flaring up in his palms as he latched onto Jacob for dear life.

'That's it,' Jacob whispered into his ear, his breath hitting the nape of his neck. 'Keep holding onto my hand, Troye. I'm not going anywhere.'

Troye choked back sobs as his body shook in pain, his knuckles turning white against the other boy's hand. Heat burned across his flesh as he doubled over in pain, white hot tears behind his eyes. 

'Make it— Make it stop.' 

'Isa,' Jacob said urgently, feeling Troye's pain as if it were his own. 'Look at him. He can't take it anymore. We need to stop.'

Isabella bit her lip as she continued to disinfect his wounds, hands shaking, and tears threatening to escape her eyes. 

'It's almost over,' she whispered.

The flesh of Troye's back was angrily red with lacerations and pooling blood. Isabella felt the bile at the back of her throat as her eyes followed the cuts as they made their way down his back. 

'Isa!' Jacob yelled.

'Okay, it's over.' Isabella assured, brushing her fingers over Troye's arm once again. The boy visibly relaxed with the two either side of him, as the pain faded into a dull ache and his eyes began to clear.

Jacob let a breath of relief through his lips as Troye sighed into his embrace. He fumbled awkwardly, not sure where to put his arms without hitting an exposed wound. His hands found themselves in the boy's curls, running through the tufts gently.

Isabella watched the two from across the carpet with a strange look in her eyes, her lips turning up in an almost sad smile. 

'Why don't we get you to bed, Troye?' Jacob spoke softly. 'Would you like that?'

Troye let out a yawn almost immediately in response to Jacob's words. 'M'yeah,' he sighed, cuddling further into Jacob's chest.

He was too close for a stranger to be.

And yet, Jacob found he didn't mind at all.

 

—

 

'Don't worry about it,' Isabella said, sensing the hesitation in his eyes. 'You can take my bed tonight. I'll sleep on the twin-sized.'

Jacob furrowed his eyebrows as his eyes found the bed across the room she was referring to. He waited for her to elaborate. 

'I said _don't worry about it_ ,' she repeated, her smile turning mischievous. 'Besides, you need it more than me. You're getting _old_ , Bixenman.'

This was how it always went, Jacob recounted with a smile. He couldn't remember a time where their conversations hadn't been a competition of quick wit and repartee. 

Only now, Isabella seemed much more guarded.

 _A lot of things have changed. You just haven't been here to see it._ Jacob's stomach twisted uneasily as he remembered their recent conversation.

Maybe he didn't know her as well as he used to.

'Alright Valencia, case in point.'

'Oh, I'm always on point, young Jacob.' Isabella smiled cheekily, stepping away from her bed. Jacob couldn't help but notice the way her fingers fiddled with the bracelet on her wrist. 

 _She's hiding something,_ Jacob thought.

'You just called me old.' Jacob deadpanned. 

Jacob walked backwards towards the open, en-suite bathroom, watching Isabella's every move. Maybe Jacob's mind shouldn't have been curious enough to wonder why she climbed in the twin-sized bed with her leather jacket and skinny jeans still on. Isabella messed with the duvet engulfing her.

'Old. Young. What does it matter?'

'Young don't get listened to,' Isabella paused her actions, 'Old don't listen.' 

And suddenly, the light mood turned into something much more complex. Jacob could not help but notice how he always said the wrong thing at the wrong time. He could not help but have the wrong interest in the wrong world too, he had realized. 

'Well. Young is going to have to figure out something to get Old to listen.' Isabella flashed a blatant fake smile at him. 

Jacob frowned. 

'Are we not gonna, I don't know, talk about it?' 

' What is there to talk about?" Isabella sighed. 

'Oh, _I don't know_ ,' Jacob's actions came into a halt before turning back to Isabella, waving his hands around. 'Maybe the fact that they _want us to date?'_

‘We're not talking about this.’ Isabella retreated, messing with the headboard of the bed as if it were the most interesting thing she'd ever seen.

‘And why not?’ Jacob asked.

'I'm not going to tell you again, Jacob. We're not talking about this. And that's the end of it.'

'God,' Jacob sighed in exasperation, running his hand through his hair. 'You sound _just like her_.'

Isabella clenched her jaw. ' _Good._ '

Jacob furrowed his eyebrows. ''What happened to you? The Isabella Valencia I know wouldn't act like this. Don't you ever get tired of pretending—

‘I’m not _pretending_.’

‘ _They want us to pretend to like each other. Don't you think that's a little fucked_ —

' _God,_ is it _that_ ridiculous to you?' Isabella lashed out, her face heating up. Tears filled her eyes, something Jacob knew only happened when she was extremely angry or distraught.

Or in this case, _both._

'Have you _seriously_ never considered that maybe, _just maybe_ , I could have feelings for you? _Fuck._ '

Jacob's face turned ashen.

Isabella's face seemed to collapse in devastating realization as her ears caught up to her words. ' _Clearly,_ I shouldn’t have said that.’ 

Jacob's chest tightened as Isabella avoided his eyes. He glanced towards the small boy cocooned in the blankets beside him. He let out a little whine as he turned in his sleep. 

Jacob smiled softly before crossing the room, sitting beside Isabella. He placed a finger under her chin as she protested, turning her face to meet his. 

'This is _so_ unfair.' 

' _Listen_ ,' Jacob said, settling his hand on her covered thigh. She flinched a little at the touch, but didn't move away. 'You had every right to say that. In fact, it should be _me_ apologising. I should've considered your feelings. And I'm sorry if I hurt you.' 

'It's okay that you don't feel the same way,' Isabella whispered. 'I'm sorry that I yelled.'

Jacob watched as she turned away and traced indecipherable shapes into her palm. He wondered what she was thinking. 

'Don't say sorry,' Jacob shook his head, trailing his fingertips up her thigh and past her waist. He pretended not to notice the way she was gripping her bracelet. 'Isabella, _look at me_.'

Isabella almost had whiplash as she turned her head to look at him. Here he was with Isabella, but for the first time he was _really_ seeing her.

He traced his thumb over the back of her hand.

Jacob became aware of her uneven breath, not the amount of time that was passing between them. She had always been so guarded, but Jacob was sure she was close to unravelling before him. 

' _You know_ ,' Jacob leaned in further. 'Since our parents want us together so much, why don't we _at least_ try it out? _Just to see._ '

 Isabella glanced up at him with uncertainty in her eyes, breath catching in her throat.

'Are you sure?' Isabella whispered. To Jacob, it sounded like _please don't hurt me._   

'Isa,' Jacob said, his hand over hers. ' _It's okay._ '

Any reservations she had died on his lips. Jacob took the lead as their mouths collided, trapping her bottom lip between his. Jacob felt the thrill flaring inside of his body as she leaned forward on her knees, hand reaching up to cradle his jaw. He pressed his lips gently to hers again and again, fingertips slipping underneath the hem of her shirt to find her hipbone.

Isabella breathed heavily against Jacob as their lips disconnected, still impossibly close. He drew back for a moment, taking in her appearance. Her lips were swollen, and pink dusted her cheeks as she stared back at him, dazed. 

Jacob brought her back into him by the nape of her neck, lips clashing in heated competition. Isabella chased his saccharine lips as he leaned back on his hands, momentarily lifting one to bring her into his lap. Jacob brushed his tongue along her bottom lip, acutely aware of the hitch in her breath as the kiss deepened.

Heat rushed to Jacob's groin as steadied his hands on her waist, drawing long shapes out onto her skin. Isabella whimpered through slow-paced kisses as she felt Jacob hardening underneath her.  

Isabella noticed Jacob's eyes darken as he pulled away from the kiss once again, this time to bury a leg between her thighs and pin her hips to the bed. It was fast, the way her fingers tightened around his tousled locks. The way his mouth found her collarbone as he thrusted against her. 

Isabella kept her hands around his neck as a frustrated moan escaped her lips, completely uninhibited. As he repeated the motion, a whine spilled from his lips, his jeans becoming far too tight. He tugged at the buttons, desperate for some sort of release. 

And that's when he felt it. 

The guilt. 

As he closed his eyes, the blank void was replaced by a pair of overwhelmingly green eyes. He melted into the kiss, trying to look past the fact that Isabella's eyes were certainly not green.

It took him a few moments before he realized. This wouldn't be fair to her— to be with her physically, but not be present. To touch her body and imagine someone else's. It would destroy their already fragile friendship, possibly forever.

Except, she had already pushed his body from hers before he had the chance to pull away. 

'I— I have to go.' Isabella breathed out.

'I'm sorry,' Jacob frowned, the guilt consuming him. 'Did I do something— Did I _hurt_ you?'

' _Of course not,_ Jake.’ Isabella calmed down for a moment, sending him a sincere smile.

‘Then, where are you going?’ Jacob asked, the guilt in his stomach becoming unbearable.

‘Jacob, we shouldn’t have done this.’

‘But our—

‘I don’t care about them,’ Isabella sighed, fixing him a soft smile. ‘I care about you. And deep down, you know this shouldn’t have happened either.’

‘Where will you go? This _is_ your room.’

Isabella lips curved up in an almost cryptic smile. ‘I’m sure I’ll figure something out.’

‘If you’re sure…’ Jacob said.

‘Just,’ she paused. ‘Look after Troye for me? He has night terrors— When he does, wake him up and hold him. I know it might be a little _awkward,_ but he'll need you.' 

'Of course.' Jacob frowned in sympathy. 'I'm willing to help him any way I can. _If he wants me to._ '

'Thank you, Jacob,' Isabella said, one hand on the door as she turned to leave. ' _I mean it. Thank you._ '

And so, Jacob was left with the taste of strawberry on his lips, and the image of Troye turning almost endearingly under the duvet.

 

—

 

Jacob couldn't sleep, not with Troye’s sleeping form beside him. He kept his distance from the younger boy, arms cold and eyes begging him for sleep. 

He made sure the boy was tucked in neatly under the blanket, carefully avoiding his wounds. Maybe it was a little weird when he held in his own breath to make sure he could hear Troye breathing.

 _Maybe just a little_ , Jacob convinced himself.  

Turning on his side, he couldn't help but question why it was so difficult for him to sleep in the same bed as Troye. 

Or, another boy in general.

It was almost midnight and Jacob knew Isabella wasn't coming back. He wasn't sure why he hadn't just moved to the single bed and slept alone. 

_I promised Isa I'd look after him._

Jacob was not sure who he was trying to convince anymore. 

His eyes finally started to drift shut as he pulled more of the blanket over the both of them. 

At least, until he heard the short, sharp gasps from beside him.  

Jacob craned his neck to see Troye thrashing against the mattress, his pupils darting around below his eyelids. His chest rose and fell rapidly, teeth sinking into his bottom lip as he trembled under the blanket.  

_These must be the night terrors she mentioned._

Jacob switched the lamp beside them on immediately, lips parting as he assessed Troye's state. He noticed sweat beginning to gather on his face and in his hair. Jacob's hands shook as he reached out for the boy, unsure what to do.  

He took Troye's fingers gently between his, watching as his face creased in discomfort.  

'Troye,' Jacob kept some distance between the two of them, his voice almost a hum. 'It's me, Jacob. Wake up, sweetheart.'  

'I- Isa? Don't let them hurt- _no more_.'

'It's Jacob,' he spoke, softly caressing his cheeks in an attempt to calm him down. 'Do you remember me? I'm not going to hurt you, okay?'

Troye blinked for a few moments, his eyes becoming adjusted to the low light of the room. Jacob tugged the hem of his shirt up, gently wiping the sweat from his forehead. Jacob noticed that his eyes were a muted blue, almost close to silver.  

' _I'm sorry, sir,_ ' Troye whimpered. 'I promise it won't happen again.'  

Jacob's shock turned to sadness as he glanced down at the boy, expecting melancholic eyes. Instead, he found Troye's eyes hollow, little emotion in them.

He looked exhausted.  

Jacob had never seen eyes this empty before.  

 'Why are you apologizing, sweetheart?' Jacob kept his tears at bay, his face composed for Troye's benefit. 'This isn't your fault. And neither is what happened yesterday, okay?'

'Mrs. Valencia seemed to think otherwise,' Troye giggled at his own joke, his eyes beginning to warm.  

' _She_ had _no right_ to hurt you for something that was out of your control.'

' _It happens_.' Troye dismissed, pulling his body into an upright position. 'Don't worry, I'm used to it.'

'It _shouldn't_ ,' Jacob let out a sigh, shifting a little closer to Troye. He crossed his legs, facing Troye, who seemed to be looking through him. 

For the first time in a while, Jacob felt some sort of closure. They sat opposite each other in a long, but comfortable silence. The sound of wind sifting through trees came in through the window as Jacob played with the blanket between his fingers.  

It was strange, but not awkward. Troye seemed to relax, more in his element, his mind on nothing in particular. Jacob's mind, on the other hand, was filled with muted blue and soft laughter.  

His eyes made their way across Troye's face, on his eyes, over his cheekbones, to the sharpness of his jawlines.

If the other boy noticed, he didn't mention it.

' _What's it like?_ ' The silence disintegrated around Troye's soft voice. Jacob was brought out of his staring with a blush surfacing on his cheeks.  

'What's _what_ like?' Jacob responded.

' _Being with Isa._ '  

Jacob stilled, wondering if the other boy had heard his sharp intake of breath. He wasn't sure how much Troye knew about his and Isabella's... _act._  

He searched Troye's thoughtful face for some sort of answer, but came up empty.

'We're not— _wait,_ do you have feelings for Isabella?' Jacob's eyes widened, not sure why he suddenly felt uncomfortable.  

A soft laugh escaped Troye's lips. Jacob's heart warmed. He found he liked how happiness sounded on the tip of his tongue. It lasted only a few seconds, Troye's lips parting in what resembled sudden fear.

'N-no.' Troye stammered. 'Don't h-hurt—

'I'm not going to hurt you, sweetheart,' Jacob shuffled closer to Troye, his heart constricting at the way the boy shivered. 'I won't ever hurt you.'

'Promise?' Troye said in a small voice, pulling out his little finger.

Jacob felt a smile at the corner of his lips.  

 _'Promise_.'

He offered his hand out to Troye, who seemed to take no notice of it. Instead, the younger boy bit his lip, a look of worry passing his face.

'You shouldn't try to help, sir,' Troye whispered. 'You'll just end up hurt. _Like everyone else._ '

Jacob's chest fell at the words. He pulled himself into Troye's side, their fingers brushing together.  

'But _you'll_ get hurt. You're _already_ getting hurt.'

'Exactly,' Troye sighed. 'I get hurt anyway.'

Jacob sat still, watching the boy's finger tug at the white sheets they laid on. Troye must have been one of the strongest people he'd met. 

'But _you_ ,' Troye said. 'You have a chance at something good. Don't let that go for _someone like me._ '

'They hurt me too,' Jacob paused, playing with the hem of his shirt. 'Of course, not in the same way. But they're hurting us. And they don't have the right.'

'How are they hurting you?' Troye asked softly.

Jacob let out a small breath. 'Isabella is sweet, and beautiful, and one of the best people I know.'

' _But?_ '

'But I don't have feelings for her. At least not in the way I'm _supposed_ to.'

Troye stilled at his first few words.

' _Forget it,_ I shouldn't complain. You have it so much worse—

'Don't worry about it, sir. Everyone should be heard,' Troye paused for a moment.

'I'm not... I'm not _like them._ I'm _just_ Jacob.'

'Is it inappropriate if I ask about your relationship with Isa?'

'You just did,' Jacob chucked lightly. 'But no, it's fine. You can ask me _anything_ you want. About Isa... I can see she cares about you a lot.' 

'She tries to help,' Troye smiled sadly, tears surfacing. 'I told her not to. She knows how _Mistress_ will react. But she said— she said I'm _family._ I told her she’d get hurt but… she never listens to me.'

‘That _does_ sound like Isabella.’

Troye tried to gather himself, lifting his hands to cover Jacob's.

‘I don't— I can deal with the pain, Jacob. I've been dealing with it for years. But I don't want _Mistress_ to hurt you _too_.' 

'I don't... I don't understand.' 

'Sir— _Jacob..._ You've done nothing but help me since you've arrived.' Troye paused once again. 'But this is what it had always been like. You can't change it.'

'No. I don't understand.' Jacob's frown never left his face, but a little bit of his heart did every time he saw Troye's face. 'Why does she hate you so much? Why you? Why does she treat you worse than anyone else who works here?'

'It's because Mistress knows.'

'What does she know?' 

And Troye stilled. Jacob could see a conflict building up inside his head, debating whether to answer or not to answer. Jacob would have never thought that the boy would answer his question. 

'You promise, right?' 

'I won't hurt you. I promise.'

A wave of silence passed between the two. Troye's mouth would open, before eventually closing, a look of pure frustration across his features. Jacob brushed his thumb over Troye's palm to soothe him.

' _I'm not_.... I like _boys,'_ Troye broke the silence. 'When Mistress found out... She said I'm disgusting— that I don't deserve to be here. That I'm... _not normal_.'

Jacob remained silent for a moment, letting Troye release the words he likely hadn't told anyone else. He gave the boy's hand a gentle squeeze.

 ' _Isa doesn't know_. I'm... scared that once she does… she'll leave.'

Jacob felt tears pool up in his eyes at the revelation. It was as if the more they talked, the more of a reflection Troye became of himself. He left his hand on Troye's knee, a soft smile on his face.

‘If there’s one thing I know about Isabella Valencia,’ Jacob started. ‘It’s that once she loves you, she never stops. No matter what happens. She won’t leave you, Troye. And neither will I.’

Troye sniffled.

' _You know_ , my Mama always lets me rest my head on her lap when I'm upset.' Jacob smiled.

'Mrs. Bixenman?' 

'No— not her.' Jacob looked away.

' _Oh_.'

'You look exhausted. Do you want to rest your head on my lap?' 

'But Mrs. Valencia—

''I'll carry you downstairs before she wakes up. Don't worry about a thing, Troye. I'll take care of you.'

'You won't send me downstairs alone?' 

'I don't want you to be alone.' Jacob frowned. 

Troye looked thoughtful for a moment. 'Tro.'

Jacob furrowed his eyebrows. 'What?

'You can call me Tro. And you'll be Jake.'

Jacob smiled warmly.

'You wanna lie your head on my lap?' Jacob offered, patting his lap for emphasis. When Troye didn't reply, Jacob began to worry that he’d crossed the line. 

'Tro, look at me please.' Jacob softly spoke.

'I- I can't.' The boy whimpered. 

'You won't.' 

'Sir— Jacob, I _can't_.'  

And Jacob suddenly understood why Troye felt so distant, even as he let his guard down. 

'Were you born—

Jacob didn't need to finish the question. 

' _No_.' Troye's breathing picked up again.

Jacob let a hand rest on his arm, running it softly down the skin. Troye's face relaxed only slightly at the touch.

'Troye, I won't let you get hurt. Not as long as I'm around.' Jacob whispered. 

'I don't need to be saved.' Troye shook his head. 

'You need help.' 

'I may do.' Troye smiled sincerely. 'But, I don't need to be saved.' 

'We can help each other.' Jacob suggested. 'I'll try and stop Belle from hurting you and you can be here for me— as a friend.'

'Friend.' Troye smiled.

'Now come lie on my lap.' Jacob backtracked. 'If you want, of course.'

'I want.' Troye murmured sleepily, in a way that Jacob found endearing and adorable.

Jacob noticed Troye searching for his lap. He took the boy's hand and led it to his thigh, resting his palm on it. 

Jacob was sure he noticed colour returning to Troye's cheeks.

Troye shifted himself downwards slightly so he was able to comfortably rest his head on Jacob's lap. When the boy started to relax on his lap, Jacob ran his fingers through Troye's curls, separating the messy curls into separate strands.

Jacob could get used to this— having a boy in his arms. Having _Troye_ in his arms.

'Thank you, Jake,' Troye smiled in his half-asleep state, his nose crinkling slightly.

'For what?' Jacob was confused.

' _For not being like them_.' 

'Don't thank me. I'm still struggling with that.' 

'Goodnight Jake.'

It was a little strange, having a boy he'd met only the day before fall asleep in his arms. But as Jacob watched his eyelashes flutter in and out of consciousness, he discovered he cared less and less about what was _strange_ and what was _normal_.

Maybe there wasn't such a difference after all. 

' _Sweet dreams_ , Tro.'

And it was the first of many.


	3. Chapter 3

 

_‘Hi!’ Jacob stopped the swing with his little legs, skimming over pebbles on the ground and capturing the attention of the smaller boy._

_‘Oh,’ he lifted his head, cheeks pink-dusted. Jacob figured he wasn’t used to receiving this much attention. ‘H-Hello.’_

_‘I’m Jacob,’ he smiled toothily. ‘Who are you?’_

_‘I’m Tommy.’ The other boy mumbled, playing with the half-sewn fabric of his shirt. His fingers swam in the air as the swing got higher._

_‘That’s a nice name,’ Jacob smiled. He watched Tommy frown, his ocean eyes looking tearful. ‘Are you okay, Tommy? You look upset.’_

_Tommy sent him a lopsided smile, his little hands gripping the green ropes of the swing tightly. ‘I’m... I’m okay. I think.’_

_‘Are you here alone?’ Jacob asked, humming along to a song he’d heard on the radio on the way here. He searched the park for adults._

_Tommy nodded slowly, his eyes falling._

_Jacob was confused. ‘Why?’_

_‘Mama had to leave me,’ Tommy whimpered, clenching his fists around the rope as if the world might slip away any moment. ‘She said she’s coming back. She-She promised.’_

_Jacob felt his chest tug as Tommy’s smile faltered. He decided against asking anything else about his mother. She was coming back, anyway._

_Promises were like magic._

_‘Okay,’ Jacob smiled. ‘So, where do you live?’_

_Tommy didn’t answer.  Instead, he pushed his swing higher. Jacob thought he might not have heard._

_'I mean, where do you sleep?' Jacob reworded._  

_Tommy’s eyes lit up for a second. ‘The trees.’_

_‘The trees?’ Jacob asked, surprised. He didn’t know if he liked Tommy’s answer. Sleeping by trees must have been cold._

_‘Y-Yeah,’ Tommy said. ‘They’re really pretty. D’you want me to show you?’_

_Jacob hesitated, looking back at his parents. Unsurprisingly, his dad was still on the phone, probably to some other businessmen. He did that a lot. Jacob thought it was mean. “You’ll do the same when you’re older,’ his dad laughed._

_Jacob frowned. He didn’t want to be like his dad when he grew up. He seemed like he didn’t care. He was always so angry. Not like Tommy._

_Tommy thought trees were pretty._

_He was different._

_Jacob liked different._

_‘Okay,’ Jacob smiled. ‘Is it far?’_

_A grin spread across the smaller boy’s face. He shook his head. ‘You’ll love it. Promise.’_

_Jacob offered his hand out, like his mom had taught him to. Hesitantly, Tommy placed his smaller one in his._

_Cold **,** Jacob thought. _

_He held on tightly as Tommy lead him away from the swings, and down the path. He hadn’t lied, although Tommy didn’t seem like the kind of person who would ever lie. It was pretty. Jacob’s fingers swam though the air as he tried to catch butterflies._

_Before long, they stopped behind an old oak tree. It was then that Jacob’s heart sank. In front of the two small boys lay a few pieces of cardboard, worn out and tearing. Bin bags lay across the ground, pinned back by rocks._

_Tommy landed on top of the bin bags with a laugh, looking up at Jacob with hope in his eyes._

_‘I-It’s pretty cool, don’t you think?’ Tommy smiled, tugging Jacob down to his height by his sleeves. ‘Like m-my own little p-playhouse.’_

_Jacob didn’t think it was cool at all._

_Not when it was three degrees outside and there was nothing resembling a blanket around here. Not when Tommy’s teeth chattered in the falling temperature, and his cold hands barely fit in his._

_‘Doesn’t it get cold?’ Jacob asked, feeling tears spring to his eyes. He didn’t trust himself to say more._

_‘O-Only a little bit.’ Tommy waved it off with a toothy smile, smoothing out the bin bag beneath him._

_Jacob stared down at him, his chest beginning to hurt. Tommy looked even smaller here, with gaping holes in his clothes and a thin bin bag for warmth._

_Tommy must have noticed he was upset. His bottom lip trembled. ‘Don’t you like it?’_

_‘N-No,’ Jacob rushed. ‘I do. You should sleep somewhere better tonight though— somewhere warmer. It’s too c-cold here.’_

_Jacob could imagine the boy in front of him turning during the night, his little body curled up. He could almost hear the whimpers leaving his lips._

_It wasn’t okay._

_‘T-this is my home, Jakey,’ Troye giggled at the affectionate name, dragging his fingers through long blades of grass._

_‘Where do you eat— what do you eat?’_

_Tommy pointed to the playground, which was now alive with kids their age. ‘I wait, silly. Sometimes people leave food,’ he shrugged, smiling at the thought as his stomach rumbled._

_Sometimes, Jacob thought to himself. What about all the other times?_

_His mind ran wild with possibilities. What if one day Tommy’s body couldn’t wait any longer? His stomach turned. He didn’t think he could imagine anything worse._

_‘W-What do you do if there’s no food?’ Jacob asked, his eyes shining with tears._

_‘I just keep w-waiting,’ Tommy whimpered. ‘Maybe one day Mama comes back with f-food.’_

_That was enough for Jacob._

_And apparently enough for Tommy, too. Jacob bit his lip as the tears began to spill from the smaller boy’s eyes._

_‘M-Maybe,’ Tommy smiled weakly. ‘Maybe Mama doesn’t h-have enough food y-yet.’_

_Jacob didn’t mention other possibilities._

_‘Maybe.’ He returned the smile, reaching into his pocket and taking out a half-eaten croissant from breakfast. ‘You want, Tommy?’_

_‘N-No thanks, Jakey,’ Tommy shook his head. ‘T-That’s your food.’_

_‘It’s okay, Tommy,’ Jacob smiled at him. It must have been the first genuine smile the other boy had seen, because he looked up at him with wonder in his eyes. ‘Friends share. And we’re friends. So, take it.’_

_‘Friends?’ Tommy hummed, his eyes bright._

_‘Friends. Promise.’_

_Tommy inched forwards, his legs a little unsteady, and took the croissant from his hands. Jacob felt warm inside as he watched Tommy eating, for what seemed like the first time in a while._

_He ate slowly, unsurely. Jacob figured he was trying to make it last longer._

_Tommy’s eyes shut in appreciation, humming the tune that Jacob had earlier. ‘Thank you, Jakey,’ he smiled, shoving the rest of the croissant in his pocket._

_‘Tommy, no!’_

_The smaller boy cowered, shuffling away._

_‘I’m sorry, Tommy,’ Jacob lowered his voice. He hated that he sounded like his dad. ‘I just want you to eat all of it. So, you’re not hungry anymore.’_

_‘E-eat later.’ Tommy said in a small voice._

_‘It’s okay. I promise,’ Jacob smiled, his hands sinking down into his pockets and pulling out a few dollar bills. ‘You can buy more food later.’_

_‘Jakey, I can’t.’ Tommy’s eyes widened, as if he had never seen money before. ‘It’s yours—_

_‘We’re friends, remember?’_

_Tommy smiled slightly, but the worry in his eyes remained. ‘But your mama will be angry at you.’_

_‘She won’t, don’t worry,’ Jacob said. ‘She doesn’t care if I give this away.’_

_That was a lie. Jacob’s parents would be angry at him for giving away money. Which is why he would pretend he lost it on the swings._

_His family already had lots of money. A few missing bills was nothing. Besides, Tommy could use a little. Jacob would lie as much as he could if it meant the smaller boy would be warm and fed at night._

_‘Are you sure?’_

_‘We’re friends, dummy,’ Jacob said, reaching down and pulling his sweatshirt over his head. He leaned forward and helped the smaller boy pull it on. It was oversized on his little body, and the warmest thing he’d felt in the longest time._

_Jacob’s smile grew as he watched his new friend cuddle into himself._

_He looked cute._

_Tommy launched forward, wrapping his arms around Jacob’s larger body, and thanking him with a kiss to the cheek._

_‘Thanks, Jakey,’ Tommy’s cheeks flushed pink as he dug around his pocket to find something. His blue eyes lit up with excitement as he pulled the object out towards Jacob. ‘M-Mama gave me this.’_

_Jacob’s breath caught in his throat as he felt the pendant in his hands._

_‘S-She said to give it to someone special,’ Tommy smiled. ‘I don’t have any friends. B-But now I have you. And you’re s-special, Jakey. So special.’_

_Tommy was not going to accept the money._  

_Jacob glanced up at the smaller boy, finding a matching pendant hanging around his neck. He closed his hands to protect his._

_He’d never let it go._

_‘Isn’t it pretty?’ Tommy brushed his fingers over his own pendant. ‘N-Now, wherever you are, I will r-remember you.’_

_Jacob looked up, the smile present on his lips. Tommy looked back at him expectantly._

_‘And maybe,’ he said. ‘You will remember me.’_

_‘Maybe?’ Jacob questioned, as if it were crazy to him. His teeth chattered. ‘I’ll never forget you, Tommy. Not ever.’_

_‘Don’t be like the o-others, Jakey,’ Tommy whispered, this time reaching out and holding his hand. ‘P-People hurt. Be like you. If p-people tell you to hurt, remember. R-Remember me. And this tree.’_

_‘Our playhouse.’ Jacob mused._

_‘I t-told you it’s p-pretty cool.’_

_Jacob traced his thumb over his pendant. It already meant so much to him. He glanced up momentarily, watching the smaller boy finishing off the last pieces of his croissant._

_He never wanted to leave him. He wanted to stay right here, in this moment, knowing he cared about someone and they cared about him. But when he heard his father calling his name, he knew there was no other choice._

_If his parents saw the boys together, they would hurt Tommy. And Tommy was his special person now. He couldn’t let that happen._

_Jacob pressed forward on his knees, giving Tommy a clumsy kiss on the cheek._

_‘Look after yourself, Tommy. I will see you again. Soon. I promise.’_

_And so he left the little boy behind, glancing behind him every few moments until the old oak tree and cardboard slabs became a blur in the distance. He left unsure of Tommy’s fate. He left unsure of his own._

_Jacob’s parents didn’t care enough to question where his sweatshirt had gone._

_Or, they were too pre-occupied with business._

_Jacob walked alongside his parents as they discussed topics too boring to him. He was trying to memorize the colour of Tommy’s eyes, and the way his cold hands felt in his._

_He kept his promise._

_Jacob returned to the park two days later, discovering empty cardboards and torn bin bags. He found more questions than answers, each hurting more than the last._

_He wondered if Tommy was okay._

_He wondered if Tommy had eaten._

_He wondered if this was the end for them._

_But, of course, they remained unanswered._  


_-_  


Jacob traced a path to where Troye turned golden. He breathed through parted lips, watching as Troye’s eyelashes fluttered closed.

His fingers trembled across the nape of his neck, feeling as the other boy shivered.

There were no words to explain fall of his chest, or the way they were close but not really close at all. 

Jacob yearned to close the distance between them, to bring Troye into his embrace.

He just didn't understand why. 

'Morning, loser,' Isabella said, the loud slam of the door punctuating her sentence. She stopped just in front of the bed, an amused look on her face. 'You look _thoughtful.'_

'Nice to see you too,' Jacob said dryly, creating some distance between himself and Troye as Isabella came closer. 'You found somewhere to sleep then?'

'Something like that.'

' _Oh_?' Jacob said suggestively. 'So, _no_ sleeping?'

'Funny,' she narrowed her eyes. 'Doesn't look like you got much sleep either. Something keeping you up at night, Bixenman?'

Jacob felt his face heating up as he glanced towards Troye, who was stirring awake. The younger boy stretched his arms with a wince, his eyes warmer today. He seemed to notice Jacob's presence beside him.

His face lit up. ' _Jake_. You stayed.' 

Jacob found Troye's hands with his own, giving a gentle squeeze as the younger boy smiled. He turned his face down in an attempt to hide the crimson blush on his cheeks.

'Of course I did, sweetheart.' 

' _Jake? Sweetheart?_ I was gone for _one_ night.'

 _'Izzy_ ,' Troye's smile widened as he reached out for her embrace. 'You're back. Did you see—

'Morning, baby,' Isabella cut him off, bringing Troye into her arms and pressing a kiss to his forehead in a way a mother would. Her eyebrow dipped in concern. 'Were you okay last night? How did you sleep?'

'Good,' Troye grinned. 'Jacob let me sleep with him.' 

 _'He did?'_ Isabella rose her eyebrows. 

Jacob scratched the back of his neck, slightly embarrassed. Troye was still golden, weaving their fingers together, his face radiant as he spoke. 

'Any night terrors?' Isabella asked, running her fingers through Troye's curls. 

Troye nodded, his smile falling for just a moment. Jacob felt his heart tug at the sight. He swiped his thumb across the younger boy's knee, sending him a smile of reassurance though he knew Troye couldn't see it.

'J-Jake stayed with me,' Troye said quietly, the blush returning to his cheeks. 'You were right. He is c-cool.'

'Cool?' Jacob asked with an amused smile. 'That's the nicest thing you've ever said about me.'

'Don't push it, Bixenman,' Isabella glared from over Troye's shoulder. 'Most of the time, you're unbearable. I don't know how Troye managed a night with you.'

'Rude.' Jacob scoffed.

'Because he's warm and cuddly,' Troye shrugged, letting out a small giggle, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. 'Like a teddy bear. But _way_ taller.'

Jacob's face burned red. Troye smiled toothily, squeezing Jacob's hand. An action that didn't go unnoticed by Isabella, who narrowed her eyes at the two as if she were trying to solve a problem. 

'More like a sasquatch.' 

'It's not my fault I'm tall.' Jacob whined.

'Tall is one thing. Lanky is another.' 

'Who _even_ invited you?' Jacob muttered.

'This is _my_ room, you dick.' Isabella said incredulously, hitting Jacob in his side. 'And I'll have you know, the devil herself sent me here to show you around.'

'Your obsession with my genitals is getting out of hand, Isabella,' Jacob teased. 'You wouldn't want your mother to hear. She might start planning our offspring--

'Keep your gigantic babies, Bixenman.'

Troye giggled. 'Your babies will be _Bixenmen_.'

Jacob let out a sharp laugh. 

'You're lucky you're cute,' Isabella said. 'Because humour is _definitely_ not your thing.'

Troye pouted.

'Don't worry, sweetheart,' Jacob said into Troye's ear, narrowing his eyes at Isabella. 'I think you're hilarious.'

'You're pretty funny too.' Troye grinned.

'One night, and I've already been replaced.' Isabella sighed dramatically, causing Troye to erupt in giggles.

'Don't worry,' Jacob smiled. 'You're still my best friend. No matter how close Troye and I get.'

'I was talking to Troye,' Isabella scoffed, pushing past Jacob to settle next to the younger boy. 'Who cares about you? You're irrelevant.'

Jacob placed a hand on his heart. 'I'm hurt.'

'Izzy,' Troye laughed. 'Don't be mean.'

'He brought this on himself, honey,' Isabella smirked, narrowing her eyes at Jacob. 'Isn't that right, Bixenman?'

‘Don’t make me come over there, Valencia.’

-

Jacob felt his arms sink in exhaustion as they settled into the leather seats of the booth. It was well after midday, and by now they had explored almost all of the resort.

            The tour had begun with leisure activities, which were exclusive to paying customers and strictly off-limits to all _employees,_ a fact that didn’t surprise Jacob in the slightest. Everything about the Valencia Resort screamed _luxury,_ a privilege not everyone could afford.

‘You’ve got a nice place here,’ Jacob said, his eyes scanning down the restaurant menu. _Joe’s._ Apparently, their milkshakes were to die for. Or so Jacob had heard.  ‘Your mother must have sold her soul to build it.’

‘Please,’ Isabella laughed from across the booth, seeming far away. ‘That would mean she had a soul in the first place. That woman would sell her own child if she had to.’

Jacob’s eyes softened as he looked up at her. ‘I’m sorry, by the way,’ he said. ‘I know it probably won’t help, but I mean it. You deserve more than someone like Belle as a mother.’

‘It’s fine,’ she shrugged. ‘I’m used to it.’

 _You shouldn’t have to be,_ Jacob thought. He kept the words inside. Conversation with Isabella was uneven ground. He knew to tread lightly.

‘So,’ Isabella’s eyes lit up, seeming more amused than distant now. ‘You and Troye seem to be warming up to each other.’

Jacob’s face flushed. ‘He’s a great person.’

‘ _The best_ ,’ Isabella fixed him with a look that looked like a warning. ‘He seems to really like you, though I can’t figure out why. You’re pretty lame.’

Jacob narrowed his eyes. ‘ _Thanks_.’

‘I’m getting to the good part,’ Isabella rolled her eyes. ‘He really likes you, and I think you could be good for each other. I just don’t want him to be hurt once you leave.’

‘Don’t worry about it,’ Jacob felt his heart warm at the thought of Troye. He hoped the boy was getting the rest he deserved, far away from Belle. ‘He’s special. I want to show him that.’

‘You keep proving me wrong,’ Isabella said. ‘And I _was_ wrong. You’ve changed. In a lot of ways. For the better, I think. I’m proud of you, Jacob.’

Jacob smiled. ‘You know, I think you like complimenting me. You just won’t admit it.’

‘Don’t get used to it, Bixenman. I like you in small doses. Anything more than that and I have to resist the urge to punch you in the face.’

‘I love you too.’ Jacob laughed, his eyes returning to the menu. He wondered if he could pass along some food to Troye on his way out. It sounded like it’d be the first proper meal he’d had in a while.

Across from him, Isabella opened a bottle of red wine. Jacob wished there was something to celebrate, but life here seemed to resemble Hell. At least for anyone who wasn’t middle class.

 ‘You know we’re underage, right?’

‘It’s never stopped me before.’

Jacob’s mind wandered back to the boy with ocean eyes. It couldn’t have been more than a few days since he’d met Troye, and already he felt a connection tethering him to the younger boy. No one had ever been able to elicit such strong emotions from him. No one like Troye.

Being with him felt like coming home.

That scared Jacob.

The thought of leaving once their parents had finished their business. The thought of no longer seeing Troye.

That scared him more.

‘Alex.’ A voice drew Jacob from his spiralling thoughts. He glanced up to find a waitress at their table. She couldn’t have been much older than the two of them, maybe only a few years, but the radiant smile on her face immediately eased Jacob.

‘ _Alissa_ ,’ Isabella responded, the smile on her face spreading. Jacob thought she looked genuinely happy. She seemed to remember him after a few moments. ‘Oh, sorry. This is Jacob. My friend.’

Jacob furrowed his eyebrows in confusion. _Alex._ Was that the name Isabella was going by now? He made a note to begin calling her that. Apparently, he wasn’t the only one with secrets.

Alissa smiled. ‘Nice to meet you, Jacob.’

‘You too,’ Jacob replied, before laughing. ‘I didn’t realize _Alex_ had any friends.’

Alex scowled in his direction, snatching his glass of wine away as punishment. ‘Don’t listen to him. Bixenman can barely spell his own name.’

‘So _you’re_ the famous Bixenman?’ Alissa held back a laugh as Jacob fixed his friend with an annoyed look. ‘I’ve heard a lot of things about you.’

‘Good things, I hope.’ Jacob said.

‘They’re all good.’

‘No, they’re not,’ Alex pouted, turning back towards Jacob. ‘They’re not good things. I swear. They’re all insults. I hate you, everyone knows that.’

‘Sure.’ Alissa said, amused.

‘Don’t you have a job to be doing?’ Alex narrowed her eyes at Alissa playfully.

‘Thanks for the reminder, your Majesty. Have you two decided what you want to order?’

‘I’ll just have fries, thanks.’ Jacob responded. ‘And a butterscotch milkshake.’

Alex’s eyes darkened. ‘ _Surprise me._ ’

‘And for Troye?’ Alissa asked, catching Jacob’s attention.

 _She must be close to them,_ he figured. Jacob’s heart fluttered in his chest, and he found it hard to explain. His body seemed to ignore his brain.

‘Well,’ Alex turned to Jacob. ‘What do you think we should take him, Sasquatch?’

Jacob thought for a moment. He didn’t know Troye well enough to guess his eating habits, but with the way Belle treated him, he assumed Troye hadn’t had a decent meal in weeks, maybe even months. He couldn’t bear to see that happen again.

‘Let’s take lasagne.’ He answered.

‘Perfect.’ Alissa said, turning on her feet to leave them alone. ‘I’ll go let them know.’

Alex rested her hand on Alissa’s arm, stopping her in her tracks. ‘Ali, why don’t I come and give you a hand?’

‘It’s alright… you don’t have to do that.’

‘No, it’s fine,’ Alex persisted, sending Jacob a sweet smile. ‘I insist. You don’t mind staying here for a while, do you, Jacob?’

He shifted in his seat. ‘Not at all.’

Jacob sighed to himself as the two left him alone. He couldn’t shake the feeling that something bad was coming, as it always seemed to for Jacob. His stomach turned with dread as he envisioned his father’s reaction if he found out about Troye.

He didn’t understand why he was so afraid. It wasn’t like there was anything… like _that_ going on, was there? There was no reason for his parents to read into their _friendship_ that way. And yet, he knew they would.

 _People like us are not meant to live with people like them_ , he remembered his father once saying. Gerald had always been that kind of man. Dismissive of anyone different from him. Jacob had already seen the way his parents thought of Troye.

He couldn’t live with himself if anything happened to the younger boy. He would accept Troye in any capacity, as long as he was safe.

He didn’t want to ruin _this._

Losing him now would be a disaster.

He’d already lost so many people.

He didn’t feel like repeating history.

 _You will never be the same as them,_ Gerald had said, as Jacob watched a young homeless girl search for food. _Maybe she’s waiting too,_ Jacob had thought. Gerald has just tugged him by his sleeve until her tiny figure disappeared from their vision.

How had his father become so callous?

Jacob reached across the table and brought the wine glass to his lips, washing away the bad thoughts. If he could help Troye, in even the slightest way, that would be enough for him to start believing in the world again.

He barely noticed Alex’s return until she slipped the wine from between his fingers.

‘You look far off,’ she said. ‘You wanna talk about it?’

‘No, it’s fine. I just—

The words died on his lips as he glanced up at her. Jacob couldn’t hold back the laughter in his mouth. It was these moments that gave him hope.

‘What?’ Alex asked, clearly annoyed.

Jacob chuckled to himself. ‘Nothing. It’s just- your lipstick is smudged.’

She blushed. ‘ _Not another word, Bixenman._ ’

 

 

-

‘So, what’s with the whole _Alex_ thing?’

‘Nothing,’ Alex deflected cryptically. ‘I just prefer to be called that now. It makes me feel less like my mother.’

Jacob struggled to catch his breath as he followed the girl down the hallway. This was the final part of the tour. Alex had been giving him vague answers ever since they'd left the restaurant.

Jacob just wanted this over with as soon as possible. He couldn't wait to see Troye again.

' _Slow down.'_ Jacob yelled, running after her. 'I'm getting old, remember?'

'Oh, chill out Bixenman,' Alex rolled her eyes, speeding up out of spite. 'You have yet to reach thirty. I'd know, since I have your birthday planned.'

'I'm suddenly worried.' Jacob stopped on his heel. 'What _exactly_ do you have planned?'

'Nothing more than a coffin and a shroud.' Alex rolled her eyes. 'No need to worry.'

'I won’t unless 'Bury Jacob alive' is on the activity list.'

'I'll let you know it won't be the first activity if it makes you feel at all better.'

'Where are we even going?' Jacob stopped her from moving further away.

'I'm showing you around like my mother _asked._ '

'And what exactly are you showing me?'

'Certainly not my naked body.'

Jacob let out a loud roar of laughter, followed by Alex's own a few seconds after. He wrapped his arm around her neck from behind, hovering above her neck and pressing a small peck on her cheek.

'And _why not_ Valencia?' The smirk was stapled on Jacob's face. Alex turned on her heel, facing him. She placed her hand on his jawline, stroking it seductively as her lips hovered over his. When their lips locked, Jacob closed his eyes, in need to enjoy the short moment.

'I think _we know_ why, Bixenman.' Alex faked a smile and turned back around on her heels leaving Jacob speechless.

'You know what?' Jacob attempted to follow her fast pace, breath running out. 'I don’t think I know why yet. I need more convincing.'

'In your dreams.' Alex chuckled.

'And what about your dreams?' Jacob asked dangerously. 'Who's in those? Alissa?'

'You talk too much.' Alex snapped. 'Try being quiet for once.'

It was then that Jacob felt as if someone had walked over his grave. He turned to his right, noticing a vacant corridor that he'd never seen before. He paused in between a step and shifted his direction towards the corridor.

The marble floor was covered in a centimetre of dust and cobwebs. The single light on the ceiling of the halfway flickered, sending short winks towards Jacob. He swore he heard piercing screams, but he didn't know whether that was just a psychological defect he was experiencing. The hair on his arm raised as wind blew past him.

Jacob looked around– no windows to be seen.

'C'mon, Bixenman.' Alex said. 'You're not that—

She was at a ninety degrees angle from him when she interrupted her own words, eyes widening when she saw Jacob step into the hollow hallway. In a rush, she ran towards him, grabbing his arm and pulling him away from the corridor.

'Alex where the _fuck_ does that lead to?' Jacob prolonged every single word that left his mouth. 'Why have I never seen that before?'

Jacob had always wondered why the building seemed much bigger on the outside.

'We can't go there. It's _forbidden._ '

'Where even are we? I've never been to this part before and I do not like the vibe it gives me.' Jacob groaned.

'This is the third floor.' Alex spoke, Jacob's fingers still tangled in hers. 'That was the _east wing._ '

'What's on the other side?'

'I don't know, Bixenman. Stop questioning shit.'

'You _must_ have been curious enough to break the rules and take a little trip there.'

'I did actually.' Alex paused, throat bobbing. 'It wasn't—uh—it wasn’t a pretty sight down there.’

'What did you see?'

Alex's body stilled at his words, as if she was taken back to her memories. Jacob let her take some time to collect herself and bring herself back to reality.

'Things I'd like to forget, if you don't mind.' Alex looked at Jacob.

Jacob gaped at her words.

'I'm sorry. I didn't mean to overstep or—

This time Alex interrupted Jacob's words rather than those of her own.

'You aren't— I just,' Alex paused. 'Don't go to that side. It's bad.'

Jacob gulped and nodded.

They carried on walking, hands still intertwined.

After a while, they were walking in silence. Jacob felt the awkwardness' presence as he watched how his left foot stepped forward the same time her right foot stepped forward. Jacob attempted at matching his steps with hers. _He couldn't keep up._

'Alex.' Jacob caught her attention. 'How long have you known Troye?'

'About six or seven years now.' Alex hummed.

' _Oh._ '

'Why do you ask?' Alex furrowed an eyebrow.

'He's sweet.' Jacob muttered, not really answering her question. 'You care about him.'

'I love him, Jake.' Alex sighed. 'He's like my little child. When you were gone— he was all I had.'

'I'm sorry I wasn't here.'

'It's fine.' Alex didn't say another word.

'Your mother ever find out you help him out?'

'She does, from time to time.' Alex let out a choked breath. 'I just feel useless. I should be able to protect him.'

Jacob's unoccupied hand grasped his pendant.

'He doesn't _need to be saved._ He needs _help.'_

'I know. He's the bravest person I know.'

Jacob didn't answer to that.

He followed her towards the double-doors that stood between them and answers, watching as the keypad on the wall illuminated under her touch. _06-15-97._ The door parted before their eyes, revealing what Jacob assumed was the most expensive and elaborate room in the resort.

Almost everything was either metal or glass, creating a silver to white colour scheme in the room. A glass display cabinet hung from one end of the room, ending at the other. Jacob lay his hand against the wall of glass in front of him, admiring the scenery outside. He couldn't believe he'd never noticed this before.

'What is this place?'

Alex ran her fingers along the expensive leather of the executive chair. 'Isn't it obvious?'

Jacob craned his neck to see her.

'Welcome to Valencia Headquarters.'

Jacob's mouth gaped open, seeming to amuse Alex. 

'Look, there's a reason we need to hurry.'

'And why exactly wasn't I told about this?'

'Because I knew you'd fucking _freak._ ' She turned to him, throwing what seemed to be a remote at Jacob. 'Like you are now. Hurry up and help me look.'

'Girl, do I look like a psychic to you?' Jacob looked at her like she had two heads. 'What are we even looking for?'

'Would you be quiet? This room may not have security cameras but the hallways do. And I mean it when I say those long-range microphones are _long range_.'

'Why doesn't this room have security cameras?'

' _Ask my father_.'

'Why would I ask your fath—

Jacob came into a realization.

'Oh... _Oh_! Ew. What the fuck?' Jacob put his finger in his mouth, indicating a gag. 'I did _not_ need that image.'

'Neither did I. Now hurry up and find me some Christmas lights.'

'But it's summer...'

' _Yeah, well, Santa came fucking early,'_ Alex ran a hand through her hair. 'Don't ask; just do.'

'Yes, ma'am,' Jacob saluted. 

Jacob caught sight of the Christmas lights near her display cabinet and brought them over. His eyes chased any sign of a socket; finally finding one behind the glass cabinet. He leaned down on his knees to insert the power cord.

That was when he saw it.

That was when he recognized it.

It wasn't particularly big, but Jacob knew this memento anywhere. 

The pendant.

 _His pendant_.

'Alex?' Jacob turned to her, motioning her over. 'Where... where did your mother get this?'

She took a moment to observe the pendant. She took a step back and observed her mother's cabinet, in attempt to find some sort of pattern. She appreciated her mother's sense of organization at times like this.

Alex gestured towards the different sections as she discovered them. "Some of these are her trophies. Some are my grandmother's collections. Now, that pendant, is in the valuables section. So, she must have bought it.'

'Oh' Jacob deflated.

' _Why?_ ' Alex raised a single eyebrow in curiosity.

Jacob reached inside his shirt, hesitating. As he slowly pulled it out, Alex's lips parted in shock.

'Alex? Jacob?' They heard Belle's obnoxious voice from the hallway. 'What are you two doing in there?'

Jacob panicked, trying to reposition the Christmas lights as quickly as he could. They were going to get caught, and it was all _her_ fault. Jacob knew he never should have listened to Alex; she was always leading him astray.

She seemed almost too calm as she placed a remote back inside Belle's drawers. Jacob felt his pocket and noticed that the original remote was still there. At least she was prepared. Even if she was a little reckless.

'Follow my lead, like always.'

Jacob felt himself being tugged by his shirt as their lips collided. He barely had time to steady himself before Belle's high heeled shoes made contact with the marble of the floor and her overexcited gasp was heard.

Alex blushed. 'Oh, umm... sorry mother. We were just looking around and... well, you know...'

Thank God for her acting skills.

'Oh, umm— sorry mother. We were just looking around.' And thank God for Alex's excellent acting skills.

'Very beautiful place you have here Mrs. Valencia.' Jacob smiled, clenching his jaw slightly.

'Oh, you kids.' Belle smirked as she watched Jacob wrap his arms around Alex's lower back. 'Don't let me interrupt. Just come downstairs soon. Dinner is about to be served.'

Alex felt Jacob tighten his grip and place something in her back pocket. She wrapped her arms around his waist and they ushered out if the room before Belle noticed anything out of place.

They left the room with a fit of giggles slipping past their lips. Before Alex could skip through the corridor, Jacob pulled her by her upper arm.

'Remember me when you're winning your first Oscar.' Jacob teased. 'Now, are you going to tell me what we were doing there, or what?'

—

'It tickles, _Jakey._ ' Troye giggled as he felt Jacob's fingertips on his ankles.

'Sorry, sweetheart.' Jacob sent Alex daggers. 'I _still_ don't understand why we're doing this.'

Alex huffed and stuck her head out of the closet for a single second, rolling her eyes at the boy on his knees. Jacob gave her an innocent glare and continued fiddling at Troye's feet. She internally chuckled at the sight.

'Do you _not_ want to sleep with your boy tonight?'

'Wha—

Troye let out a string of giggles at Jacob's reaction, wincing slightly when his back stung from a little too much movement. Jacob smiled up at the boy, endeared at how carefree he looked. And maybe it was a blessing that the boy couldn't see Jacob's eyes as they gazed up at him.

'Of course, I do.' Jacob chuckled. 'Don't I, Tro?'

Troye blushed at his words, nodding sheepishly.

 Alex looked at the small boy for a while in concern, any worry fading as she watched Jacob tickle the soles of his feet.

She wished it could be this easy. She wished things could turn out the way they all wanted it to. But that's not how it worked.

_Things go as Arabella Valencia wishes them to._

'Well— don’t complain,' Alex shoved herself back into the closet. 'Just—hurry up and replace the LED.'

'The what?' Troye hummed in confusion.

'The thing around your ankle.' Jacob paused, unscrewing the metal. 'It has a light. When you're somewhere you shouldn't be, it turns red.'

' _I'm_ trying to find green Christmas lights, so we can take out the green LED light and replace the one in the thing on your ankle.' Alex muttered, the sound of different materials clashing heard from beside her.

'Hm. Smart.' Jacob grinned.

'My _friend_ helped me come up with it. They're reprogramming the tracking system from their tablet as we speak.' Alex's back hit the wall as she pulled the Christmas lights out of the mess.

 'Got it.' Alex faked a cough, fixing herself up as if she didn't just dive into a wall.

'No sense of direction.' Jacob rolled his eyes.

'What happened?' Troye seemed concerned.

'Nothing.' Jacob rolled his eyes. 'She just ran into a wall. Nothing new.'

Troye giggled quietly, using his hands to muffle his laughter. 'If y-you want a hug, just ask. There's no need to a-attack the wall.'

'Don't forget I have fingers Troye.' Alex warned, cutting off his giggle halfway. 'Fingers that seem to be hungry for your sides.'

Troye squealed and jumped away, almost kneeing Jacob's jaw. Luckily for Jacob, his reflexes dominated his movement. Alex burst out laughing at Jacob's reaction.

'No!' Troye gasped.

'Sweetheart, calm down please.' Jacob brushed his fingers over the back of the boy's hand. 'I need to finish this quick Troye.'

If it wasn't Troye who almost kneed Jacob in the face, he would've kneed them before they realize their mistake.

Of course, Jacob didn't— because it was Troye.

Alex noticed.

'O-Oh.' Troye whimpered. 'I'm sorry, Jakey.'

'It's okay, sweetie.' Jacob said, caressing Troye's knee for comfort. The boy melted into the touch and rested back against the bed. 'I'm almost done. Stay still, please.'

Troye hummed in agreement and played with the hem of his t-shirt as Jacob replaced the LED, screwing the device back together when he saw green.

'Done!' Jacob jumped up on his legs and bent down to place his hands under Troye's underarms, picking him up from the floor and resting him on the bed. He rolled on to the empty space beside him and wrapped his arms around the small boy.

'Have you eaten?' Jacob asked.

The boy hesitated as he shook his head.

'You're in luck,' Alex smiled. 'Jacob brought you some lasagne back from the restaurant. And Alissa told me to tell you she misses you and she guess what she gave me?'

'A kiss?' Jacob chuckled.

Alex scowled at him. 'No. La Croix.'

'Yay!' Troye clapped his hands together, sitting up excitedly. Jacob thought it was just about one of the cutest reactions he'd ever seen from the younger boy.

'La Croix?' Jacob furrowed his eyebrows in confusion. 'What's that?'

'Don't ask,' Alex replied. 'It tastes like ass.'

'Now how would you know what ass tastes like?'

'I'm warning you, Bixenman.'

'Thank you, thank you, thank you,' Troye smiled toothily, his face relaxing as he took in the scent of lasagne. 'Have you two eaten?'

'Yeah,' Jacob smiled. 'I ate fries and she ate Alissa.'

'That's it, Bixenman. You're dead.'

Jacob barely had time to defend himself before a pillow was flying in his direction. Troye giggled beside him, grasping at the sleeves of Jacob's sweatshirt and sucking on his carton. Jacob felt like melting.

Troye seemed to have that effect on him.

'H-He's not wrong,' Troye smiled. 'You're w-whipped.'

'Where did you learn that word?' She narrowed her eyes.

'From you.'

'I always knew you would betray me,' she said playfully. 'But your boy Jacob here is really testing me.'

Troye turned his face up at him slightly, the grin on his face spreading exponentially. 'It's okay Jakey— I'll protect you. She can't kill both of us.'

'I can try.'

'Truce?' Jacob held up his hands.

'For now, Bixenman.'

Jacob couldn't fight the smile on his face. The three of them seemed to have an effortless bond between them; it made Jacob feel like he finally had meaning. Like he finally belonged somewhere.

He couldn't help but feel like he was part of a family here. A _real_ family. And as he watched the smaller boy begin to eat his food with a soft smile on his face, he decided that maybe, that was all he needed.

This family.

'Do you need help with that, Tro?' Jacob asked, watching as the small boy struggled to get a spoonful of lasagne. The boy only pouted, nodding his head slightly and pushing the plate of lasagne up in front of him.

'Please.'

'Fine, I'll clean this place up so that nobody knows Santa came to town,' Alex rolled her eyes. 'It's just like they say. If you want something done, you've gotta do it yourself.'

'S-Santa _what_?' Troye spoke around the spoon in his mouth.

'Don't speak with a mouthful, Troye.' She noticed he was about to apologize and halted his words. 'Nu, uh. Troye— mouthful.'

 Jacob scooped up another spoonful of lasagne and patiently waited for Troye to slowly chew his food. _'He doesn't eat a lot. So when he does, he needs to chew the food properly for his stomach to be able to process it,'_ he remembered Alex telling him.

After a few more spoons of lasagne, Jacob held the spoon to Troye's lips for another spoonful. Troye turned his head to avoid the food.

'F-Feel sick. No.' He cried, clutching his shirt right above his chest. With that, Jacob put the lasagne down on the bedside table, carefully lifting Troye and carrying him towards the bathroom. He placed him down in front of the toilet and placed Troye's fingers on the seat.

'You can vomit if you need Troye. I'm here.' He soothed, caressing the small boy's back.

With that Jacob stared at the boy as he emptied his stomach into the toilet, little gags leaving his lips from time to time. He frowned when he saw tears in Troye's eyes, wiping it with his thumb. Once he made sure he wouldn't vomit anymore, Troye tugged on Jacob's shirt for support. Jacob let Troye brush his teeth with the spare toothbrush and carried him back to bed.

'You wanna try to eat a little more? Or do you want the La Croix instead?' Alex questioned.

'Eat a little more and La Croix. I'm hungry.' Jacob didn't know how he'd last six weeks here when this small boy was constantly playing blues with his heart strings.

So Jacob fed him a little more lasagne, which he kept down this time—along with his beloved La Croix.

'Mhm.' He hummed contently, nuzzling the white sheets. 'M'tired. Wan' sleep.'

An adorable yawn followed right after.

'Hi.' Troye giggled.

'Hey.' Jacob sat down beside him.

'Hi.' He held in another giggle.

'How's your back doing?' Jacob frowned, knowing the boy couldn't see him.

'It's still hurting a bit.' Troye pouted.

'You should lie down on your stomach,' Jacob moved to help him, concern blatant in his eyes.

'It's okay. I can stay like this.' Troye smiled.

'Thank you.'

'For what?'

'Staying.' Troye let out through a yawn, his eyelashes fluttering together. 'I like it better when you're here.'

'You don't have to thank me for that,' Jacob smiled. 'You're special. And I care about you.'

'You're my special person too.' Troye whispered.

'Sweet dreams, sweetheart.' Jacob hummed, brushing his fingers over Troye for the final time.

Troye closed his eyes as the footsteps faded away.

And eventually, so did he.

—

'I'm the one leading this time' the young boy rolled his eyes, wrapping his little fingers around his friend's miniscule wrist. 'I'm taking you to see someone.'

'For the last time, I don't need a therapist.'

'They're not a therapist.' Jacob rolled his eyes.

'Jacob, who the fuck are you making me meet? Where are we going?' Alex struggled to free herself from his grip. Jacob just continued pulling her along until they reached a room that conveniently wasn't as far away as others from Jacob's room.

'I was thinking.' Jacob paused, his feet tapping the ground as he gave the door a good few knocks.

'Always dangerous...'

'Shut the fuck up.' Jacob turned to her just as the door creeped open, revealing a rather short woman in pale white pyjamas. The woman sent daggers Jacob's way as she heard his foul words. Jacob only scratched his neck sheepishly.

'Jacob Taylor! How many times have I told you not to use those words.' The woman scolded, her short black hair swinging as she pointed her index finger towards him.

'So...' Jacob flashed a short smile at Alex, 'this is my mama.'

The woman at the door simply smiled up at Alex, opening up her arms. Alex hesitated before climbing into her arms. She felt an odd sense of relief when all the woman did was run her hand across her back soothingly.

'Nice to meet you, dear.' The woman pulled away. 'I'm Laurelle.'

Jacob shifted closer to Alex and wrapped his arms around her shoulders.

'Mama, this is Alex. Valencia's daughter.'

'It’s nice to meet you Miss Valencia.' Laurelle softly smiled, fidgeting slightly with the door.

'It's just Alex,' She smiled weakly, adding, 'please.'

'I apologize— Alex,' Laurelle smiled genuinely.

Jacob motioned something indecipherable towards Laurelle before she opened the door to let them both in the room. Jacob followed after her with a hand on the small of her back. The movement didn't go unnoticed by Laurelle, which earned him a glare of concern.

'How are you liking it here, mama?' Jacob asked, pulling Alex on the couch with him. Alex took a glance around the room. _How is it that she's the one who's lived here all her life yet still the one who feels most foreign?_

'It's very nice and relaxing in here sweetheart, thank you.' The 'for all that you've done' goes unspoken but Laurelle thought it didn't need to. And so did Jacob.

'I'm glad mama. At least _one_ of us is enjoying their time here.' Jacob sighed. For the first time, Alex didn't keep quiet.

'You got _that_ right.' Alex raised her eyebrows slightly and shifted her sole focus to the couch she was on. Laurelle turned to them with a hint of confusion.

'Why? Aren't you having a good time?' Laurelle walked around the table to sit on the couch in front of them.

'You know what mother and father are like.' Jacob looked away for a second, playing with the hem of his sleeves. 'They came here for themselves. Not me.'

Alex looked over at Jacob for confirmation.

He simply nodded. That's all he ever did.

'They want us to be together. So their businesses can merge. And my parents aren't exactly the kindest.' Alex kept her eyes on Jacob.

'They want, what? But Jake you—

Jacob's eyes widened in dread as he cut her off, begging her not to continue that sentence. He thanked her with a soft smile.

'But Jake, you're not even taking business. You didn't even apply. Didn't you apply for that art college?' Jacob thanked her mentally once again for playing it cool.

'I didn't get to send it in, because—

'Isabella Valencia. Come to my office immediately. We need to have a word.' Alex's face flushed red under her tan for a quick second before melting into pure dread.

'What does she want?' Jacob's gaze followed her as she got up from the couch.

'I don't know. But she's Arabella Valencia, so I better not keep her waiting.' Alex took a long breath, as if she knew what was to come.

'It was really nice meeting you Laurelle. I'm really sorry that I can't stay any longer.' Alex looked her way, adding to lighten the mood. 'Make sure Jacob doesn't get into _too_ much trouble whilst I'm gone.'

'I'll make sure of it, dear.' Laurelle smiled sympathetically. 'Take care of yourself.'

'You too, Laurelle.' Alex laughed lightly. 'Later, Sasquatch.'

When she nodded her head for the final time before closing the front door Jacob couldn't help but feel the uneasiness flow through his bloodstream. The silence fell upon him again.

After all, it was always silence that had been his biggest enemy.


End file.
